Clouds

Clouds


There was a shift somewhere in the night, a pause, where I melted
into you, coffee kissing caramel, and for just one moment, a slight hesitation,
I swear I could hear the clouds. I was wrapped in your stealthy embrace,
hand clasping hand, the gentle caress of two pulses synchronized,
conjoined, as one, and it dawned on me for the first time in many cranberry
moons and sweltering summers, that I felt safe, appreciated, joyful –
could it be that I felt loved? – and, as we lay, I prayed and forgave sullen
secrets and betrayals ago, betrayals that had feasted on blanket fear
and palpable pain. I forgave me, you, irony, and destiny, established faith
in feeling human, whole, for all its riches, glories, and pratfalls.
I saw that little boy, that sweet soul, and rather than cover my eyes blind,
or bend and ear towards self-loathing, I completed him, just as I felt
the wind rush past sticky lies, just as I heard sparrows strum in sycamore
trees. The clouds, the clouds – I swear I could hear the clouds, feel your breath,
allowing the tension in swollen muscles and cynical bones to finally relax.

I have no illusions that there will be eternal sunshine in silken shadows,
but there is no doubt I have been changed, transformed, and if tonight delays
tomorrow, if yesterday yearns to haunt, there will be an unspoken truth
that will remain in just three words, foolish words perhaps, but words
I desperately seek, nourish, and covet:

What about today?