Would quiet
amplify
a heart that feels
your strength,
uncover
the eyes that watch
your flight,
light
the woman shadowing
your strides?
Blueness,
sharp against the heavens’ dark,
my salt,
my curve and sweetness,
love — would it?
© Jan ’10 Heather Quinn, all rights reserved
The sun,
rising, setting,
day by day,
mirrored in my eyes,
is you.
In morning’s dark,
how beautiful you are:
an iris,
incandescent
shimmering blue.
© Jan ’10 Heather Quinn, all rights reserved
As lights paint darks
in this uncovered space,
your music shuts its eyes
and, humming,
lays itself against my bones.
Two years and more
of love’s time falls,
like apple-flowers or snow,
in steady downward pour.
© Dec ’09 Heather Quinn, all rights reserved
Child of innocence,
child of passion,
now love unclothed:
This child endures
your wintry lightning,
alive in my arms.
Cheek cupped in the palm of a hand,
your sweetness all around,
your pine honey scent thickening my sleep,
an hour’s like years.
© Dec ’09 Heather Quinn, all rights reserved
Inside rain’s light,
eyes closed,
held warm by love,
a little lost in reality-sounds —
the streets’ soft stuttered roar,
a jet behind clouds,
a bird,
a horn,
the whirring of a saw —
I heard a voice,
your cello’d song.
© Oct ’09 Heather Quinn, all rights reserved
