I waited at the edge of the stream,
where the only sound was eternity,
faintly whispering
to the dark underside of things.
Revealing that tomorrow
is as certain as yesterday,
a notion
seconded by the breeze,
as if alert to my heart's denials.
But when you arrived, the breeze settled
and clouds stopped moving, with stillness
pervasive and fragrant, and when you smiled
whatever I believed slipped quietly away.
Melting again, precarious and
vulnerable as the tender blossom of May...
~~Fiddler 05/15/2002
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