Burgundy

From the collection, Beginnings © 1991

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Walking across a hilltop

Within the dark July evening,

I turn upwards to peer at the antiques.

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They radiate like gods:

Red — orange — blue.

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You stand looking

With crystal-reflected eyes

And I know the stars are yours, too.

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Dawn droplets on a breeze blown web,

And a clear spectrum sunset;

Autumn leaves of

Red — orange — burgundy.

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“May time pause for all of these,” you say.

But I will be here with you

until the end of time …

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Let diamonds be your eyes

and I will gaze with wonder.

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Let the stars be your bed

and I will sleep there.

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