Breathe with me dearest
\nyour slender dreams,
\nyour white hopes,
\nyour branches of innumerable flowers.
\nIt was at breakfast
\nI wrote your redbud poem,
\nbetween oranges and eggs,
\nthe inebriation of fatigue,
\nthe rising of the sky\u2019s daffodil
\nand its triumphant song,
\nthe never-ending passion
\nof wet soil and spring,
\nthe quilt of silver lawns.<\/p>\n
And the words came so tenderly
\nto that imaginary hill,
\nto those glowing stems
\nof rose and fog,
\nthe redbud growing in the lines
\nof your perpetual smile,
\nyour lips repeating
\nthe music of my love,
\nthe bending at the hill.<\/p>\n
And that is where we\u2019ve gone,
\ninto the verses down the trail,
\npast years of redbud blooms
\nto future places,
\nand nothing died,
\nnothing changed.
\nThere is a bending at the hill,
\nand we have curved it all around,
\nand the place our hearts
\nwatched with joy till dawn,
\nand so time passes.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Breathe with me dearest your slender dreams, your white hopes, your branches of innumerable flowers. It was at breakfast I wrote your redbud poem, between…<\/p>\n