It is no miracle that you taste like rain
It is a miracle how you carry the scents of a lost train of thought
Or a tune from some forgotten notebook
How your fingers arouse eons of dormant flowers sleeping
Untouched in untended gardens.
How you are singularly beautiful
Like parallel sunbeams carrying volatile dust
And like the random little flower surprises in ruined forts.
How you make broken bits of dreams gather themselves
And become cumulus clouds bursting with moisture.
With you, love is as easy as the heady momentum
In a childhood swing.