Ancient Love

You are the color of the earth

That beckons me

To the bush

Brown and black limbs

From Africa

From India

Walk silently

Among paths

Never penetrated before.

Gently we move the

Large blades

Of leaves Aside

Gently we move them Aside

Using no force

One with Nature,

The wetness of

The earth

Cools the sweat

Of my toil,

The orchestra of

Frogs

The backdrop to

This scene,

Green so high

It tickles the

Underbelly of the

Sky, until

Gently a drizzle passes

I am cooled,

I stop to rest,

Only to see you

There

Brown and wet and

Relaxed

Waiting for me

Because years

ago we could not

meet

but now

right now

we can.