holds me

you'd know this feeling

if you dug deep enough into your experience

and thought through the likelihoods and the whereafters

and remembered

an embrace so thorough

that only your glittering

astonished

and completed eyes showed

above the surface

"oh be me

be you"

wild grasses in the snow

we meet

over and over

somewhere

beyond these

tidy lines and crystals

you my flower

its sharp-edged dryness is entirely as real as my eyes register

the summer-soft crimson

lost

inside the word

"fleeting"

in the idea

of past

in the wholeness

of death

so fully present

in the richness of living