First from loins, lost through a broken marriage, sadly rejecting that which we
both need. These words are for some future I hope we reach where we can
stand together. I wait. I wait.
It sat with the field and contemplated.
Only one was familiar to me and no one else
Would have picked out it's unique
Face except he who had shared his seed.
Several approaches could be laid down.
Paths, each charting different positions,
Each context from one of the four elements.
At least four approaches and so many possible outcomes
I walk about and remark how distinct
The halo of sunlight looks on her petals,
That van Gogh's pallet had been diminished
By the hat of yellow pollen that moved in the wind
Mediating the photon and eye, she is self contained
From compassionate clouds I rain ideas of oxygen
Hydrogen and carbon to the root of the matter
And I feel the swell of stem and skin
Inhaling the relief from dancing before the sun.
The other half of growth goes unnoticed in her sleep
Cracking open the earth with words, heaving
Over rock, worm and ant, all with diligence,
Method and discipline, the essence of relationship
Is established and a path is laid in sweat.
Only the future will decide if this be fruitful labor
I crouch down on all fours and bring my face to her
My breath carries softly the presence of the beating heart.
Thinking to pluck it I pause. And much can be said of patience
When waiting the long season through till fullness of maturity
Has harmonized the spheres and honored intent once begun.
Poem © 2001 Fred Houpt, all rights reserved
appears here by permission
First from loins, lost through a broken marriage, sadly rejecting that which we both need. These words are for some future I hope we reach where we can stand together. I wait. I wait.