Poem #28: Ancient Love

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 
a drizzle passes gently by

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.

Copenhagen, 2010

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