The Dream

Love is not love until love's vulnerable.

She slowed to a sigh, in that long interval.

A small bird flew in circles where she stood;

The deer came down, out of dappled wood.

All who remember, doubt. Who calls that strange?

I tossed a stone, and listened to it plunge.

She knew the grammar of least motion,

She taught me one virtue, and I live thereby.

She held her body steady in the wind;

Our shadows met, and slowly swung around;

She turned the field into glittering sea;

I played in flame and water like a boy

and I swayed outbeyond the white seafoam;

Like a wet log, I sang within the flame.

In that last while, eternitys confine,

I came to love, I came into my own.

-Something I read on the inside of a chocolate bar