Last The Best
Last The Best
In Winter we were wed,
handfast in fire and frost.
Beneath our feet we spread
the fruit of earlier seasons:
sweet tea-filled afternoons
built on games and books, the good
expressed when you and I
have heard, felt, understood
the balance of each other
accepting what years bring.
We are each other's retreat
from the surface of things;
the flowerings, the leaves
from green to gold, the mess
of being in the world.
Share with me your caress,
the rhythm of the seasons,
idle chat, passing worries,
things without proof or reasons.
Those things last the best.