Robin, Sean, Jessie, Cameron: Twin Lights - August 2001.
If you close your eyes just a bit,
And gaze past the dying birch near the road,
Through the ashen spaces between branches
Soon filled with green, or else glance
Over while driving past the swells near Thatchers
Or Good Harbor, or perhaps just squint a bit
Around the room, setting your book on your lap,
The kids asleep now upstairs-if you close your eyes
So the light becomes that gossamer haze of distance,
You can nearly capture this moment, you can almost
Pan out from the room and street, lift far above the rooflines,
The clouds and atmosphere, planets and suns and their coursing
Through the hours, through the centuries. You'll say
"What's that bright jewel there below?" and in an instant
Find shelter there: bathed in faceted light, songs
Of angels all round (heartbreaking, heartening), praises and laughter,
Words of love and comfort at every turn, all swathed in
The distant and half-remembered scent of roses, sea-salt.
My darling, here's early heaven--some pure
And perfect gift, some secret garden we two now share. (I've heard:
"But a foretaste"--but a foretaste of honey is sweet from the start!)
Life together, with you, is the loveliest bit of heaven ever on earth.
--For Allison, 2001.
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