Eros In Spring Poem by Daniel Brick

She sits very still
in a grassy plot that will
soon be night, crossed with shadows,
pierced by shafts of piercing moonight.
She sits very still, revolving her thoughts.

I am standing a short distance from her
in a grove of trees with pale green leaves.
There is no breeze. Every leaf is still,
even my breathing is slow and soundless.
Her twilight complxion is more beautiful

than twilight itself. "Turn toward me, "
I plead. "See me. Greet me." To no avail.
I walk tentatively behind her, and enter
the edge of her grassy plot. Suddenly
I feel like an interloper, and leave quickly.

As I turn away, as I walk away,
her presence weighs on me. I feel motionless
air on my arms and face. I see traces of moonlight
on my clothes, even the silence touches me.
But that girl of spring touches me most deeply.

Why do moon and trees, air and heat, darkness
fading light all acknowledge me, ansd yet
she is silent, self-absorbed, distant even
in nearness? We are sharing this silence.
We are of one mind. It should be a shared spring.