The white ducks fly on past the sun,

Their wings flash silver at the moon.

While waters rush down the mountain tongue

My organs play a circus tune.

I dance to the wonder of your feet

And sing to the joy of your knees.

The cold white dress on the mountain breast

Paints the frozen trees.

The maple plants patterns in the sky

Its leaves to kiss the wind

While scores of glittering bugs and flies

Dance polkas on her limbs.

I whistle symphonies of your face

And laugh for your hair so fine.

In startled greens of playground grass

A child jumps rope to rhyme.



Reeds and brass, the marching drums

Make a joyous sound

Trees bend low with nuts and plums

Then fall to find the ground.

I hunger for your porpoise mouth

And stand erect for love.

The sun burns up the winter sky

And all the earth is love.