
we kissed
in the old cemetery
filled with the scent
of wild daisies
felt the blessings of flesh
and we wondered
without words
how it will be
or if we would still know
when we lay underground
the feel of the sun
or the love songs of robins
Sacred and ecstatic songs not bound by any one tradition as all contemplative poems are fingers pointing to the same moon. Go to end of page for a listing of archived poems.