Friday, December 29, 2006

ccclviii

this is delicate
a full petal crimson-brown
drying in the fern

this is my connection
we sit in the same nest
winter a greenless nonsense

this del
icate con
nection abounds which

I have made a new connection
when I curl my fingertips
delicately under yours

      —maybe one or two
ever get connected—

we applaud each new description
of each new passing cloud