by Michael Howell
Look, my love
I have returned empty-handed
I can no longer pluck life’s beauty
and bring it home
to watch it fade, wilt and die
upon the table-top
So please, give me your hand
and let me lead you to the meadow
where beauty thrives
Let us hover
amongst the lupine
with the bumble bees
visiting each blossom
one at a time
Let us crawl inside
each and every one
sipping life’s nectar
savoring its sweet flavor
before moving on
Having had our fill,
let us drift towards
the edge of the meadow
and lay down
in a bed of grass
amongst the aspens
There, let us bathe
in their gentle rustling
as they lay out
their silent secrets
in a shifting patchwork
of light and shadow
upon the ground
Wrapped in slumber
let us dream of wildflowers
blooming brighter
than they ever could without us
Awakening, let us wander
homeward hand in hand
our own hearts blooming
as intensely as the wildflowers
we have left behind
Once at home
let us arrange
a bouquet of words
and set it down
deep inside us
where it may last
for the rest of our lives