Travelling so fast

the hours dissolve into a memory of color, of wind coming over the ridge.

Transformation:

happening daily.

This dream of music

Always more questions

A new road is a wonderful thing

Lush, tender,

ambrosial.

Ghost flowers--

aromatic, many petalled--the last blooms I see as the dark comes on.

It was like this---

a burst of flowers next to a bright river, a handful of days for thinking and writing.

I woke up next to this river

after listening to the water all through my dreaming.

Over time, we grow more dear

 to one another, and our vision of each other becomes subtle and varied, 

at rest in a constellation of days together; we begin to see 

each other through a veil of uncountable hours, unnumbered nights.

In May, I wake to roses

and dream of summer all night long.

Lilacs as reminder,

and remedy.

Another spring sky

and we're all drunk on spaciousness.