That's It

My love with hair like dusted copper

And eyes like this Isle’s emeralds 

Bids me home in one ear as the other listens 

To elders singing of my home as if it is far away

As if their home is far, too.

As if I don't know that. 

My love with her skin like rosy china 

Her curves like these hills,

Remembers me to our valley,

Holds me like a singer’s hovering hand 

Keeping time somehow

In the free rhythm of the ocean between us.

I wish in vain to fall upon the sand 

Of our beach again. 

The complexity of her ornaments 

Betrays her home 

A slow song air drifts over the ocean

I cannot read her graces and her melisma. 

So through my rolls at night and turns of phrase

I sing to her at home, 

stripped down to the barest melody. 

Sin é.

Originally written c. 2017