For the cause of love, I wait,
here unfulfilled but attending,
devoted,
knowing that the seasons go
around like human frailty and
the flowers will come again,
with nurture and invitation,
and all that hurts will not curdle
as shame but as conviction in the waiting,
in the standing, in the planting,
and in the looking
far and near and seeing the cause
of love emerging bright and direct with the sun,
after moonlight borrowed, on this horizon,
offering the warmth of a new-formed day.

 

5/3/2026