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Gold of Ophir



Like hummingbirds, we drank

the sweet nectar of red lilies.

In the stillness,

to nourish the lilies,

I empty my tear vase

On emerald leaves.

The reverence of this moment

runs through my bones.

You traveled west, north,

and east, tossing butterflies

to the wind, watched them

blow softly in all directions.

Did you not know your

happiness lay in the

southern-most country?

The hummingbirds, the

shimmering motes, know.

Under the warm sun,

they move smoothly

toward the lilies,

now leaning toward

the east.

The gold and white,

the incense

and salt air, all blend beautifully.

They always have.