Monday, July 25, 2016

How I loved

I did not love him with the sureness, the trueness
of algebra.

I loved him the way the ocean loves the shore:

with swells backing and filling, 
reworking the sands, its segments, changing, 
the shapes, the temperature
by degrees 
with every tide. 

I loved him without planning how or when, 
love always circling like gulls, spreading 
whiteness and darkness.

I loved him without gypsy words, without 
the burst of a match. 
I loved him like a kite bobbing in the wind, 
like a whale floating up mouth open. 

I loved stumbling like a drunk.
Like waves blown from far away
in large breakers from distant winds. 

I loved like a wanderer who comes upon 
a redwood grove
and stops to hold the silence.

I loved simply that he was here.