you are not the seconds and minutes and hours of things
or the days and weeks and months and years of things
or whatever to me love could or should be to you the very center

and can you not see into the stars of things and the same night skies
shadows illumine and the very passing showers and elipsing objects as
you pass by the very moving and groaning and shallow frozen polar
and all the orbs in all the skies and none of these are you to me

and you are neither the watery form that softly paddles by and the web feet of things
nor two poled eyes peering from the pool and of things that you and the winds murmur our giggles to hush the silly man and silly child that you are and I with you and none of these you are

for you are the very spring and summer
the skyless winter and ochre autumns faire
and the feasting and the singing and the weeping

for you are the cycle of things and the very coming and going
and entering and leaving
and the first and the last and the very heart of this cycle of this life and these things we are together you and I