The evening sky hovers
Between melodies
Sounds only meant for grass
Or breathing trees
The air a dense vibration
Each mote – happy clouds of diadems
Invisibly aligned
Communicating in their own excited language
Thankfully graced in time
Without extension or evidence
Yes …
Unbelievable love just swells
A moment spirals up like smoke
A memory or premonition
The smell of a cotton shirt
Fresh denim jeans
The coffee grounds of morning
Such images stirred together
And swimming in forever.
Are you there, Oberon?
Could we dance again?
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