Speak To Me With Light
He winces contritely,
The new silver in his hair
Is only a wise light.
I try not notice for only
He is only my life.
I stare with abandon,
My wine glass
And how it fills red, violet, white
And can only be the vessel for reflection
The filament spreads evenly
And this liquid delights.
I retrace the warmth of the quiet
To the long mountain road at midnight
The trees in the headlights
The thick forest blackness
Hours of clean air
I crack the car window
Freezing July tonight.
It is longer than expected,
But I know how to wait.
No longer a wispy maiden with eyes of dread.
Life is this heartbeat
He glances at me often on the curvaceous up climb
Our mature honeymoon
Captured in memories' sight.
I tell him this is a good place to stop.
It is frightening to be at the top of the wilderness in the cold,
But be bold for the cosmos has an order
That fills every space with spectacle,
In the pitch, there is no interference.
No glaring light bulbs or street signs.
Only creation's windows.
He winds me into his arms,
Our celestial bodies are now the heat
Against the shiver--Death's a small disturbance
Speak to me with light my love
For existence only
When the only cover for sleep will be these stars.
Copyright © Autumn Ehrhardt | Year Posted 2010
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