In this waking up
Dew clings to cobweb silk:
an elfin trampoline,
where spider dreams
come close to truth,
come close to hunger,
feeding on the microscopic details
of all epic endings.
Here is beauty,
hunger beauty:
dawn’s early light
in mystic glowing;
the forest and these heartbeat seconds,
wild and ever dying,
ever greedy.
But then, through lashes
that are clumsy still with sleep and dream,
I look at you -
and fear and forest disappear;
the dew now only soft champagne,
that coats my tongue,
enabling me to say the only words I need:
I love you in this waking up,
love you with a dying breath,
when all our seconds come to pass;
love you like the early day,
the full, fierce shine of night;
love you like a ray of light
and all the motes of darkness we become.