Love Note #2

Down the tempestuous boulevard, anticipation carries me.  My stride, deliberate and swift.  The cool nocturnal ether, my deliverance.

The Meer calls at midnight to soothe and salve and teach me things I have long known and since forgotten.  Nightfall does not diminish what can be seen; my ears, my nose, my neck, my heart, my loins and legs all tremble and tear at possibility.

The autumn chill, tart and moist and crisp, like a plump harvest, baptizes me.  Every shudder announces, "I am life!"  Every pore welcomes it.  And it passes through me like a current through a reef. 

A wooden bench, slatted, offers up a tree stump.  A lamp post, my moon within reach.  Just ahead The Meer spills a pool of black ink.  Across the expanse, neighboring moons cast a glistening constellation of lamplight.  Shimmering droplets.  Here is where I'd like to sit awhile ... and think.

It's profile, a beautiful crooked and craggy contour.  Irregular, wild and right.  Mysterious cattails, marsh and freakish fauna undescern'd.

An ebony prophet from an ancient land, the cradle of humanity, tall and graceful, passes the Farmers Gate.  He descends upon the bank.  Up to the cosmos he gazes, arms outstretched.  He takes in the vast nothingness that is everything ... and gives thanks.