Grace

When I lay with her
The sun
And moon
Cast their light
At our feet
Adding their gathered glory
To our mingling.

Her touch was
Gentle
Like mist
Yet insistent
As the pull
Of tides.

Her gaze upon me
Was that
Of compassion
Mixed with
Feral need
And I offered my heart
The way a man
Offers water
To the parched
And bread
To the starved.

I wear thoughts of her
Like soft clothing
Old shoes
Sun on my shoulders.

I could contain her
No more
Than laundry
Drying on a line
Can hold the summer wind
No more than
Clouds
Can hold an August sun.

But she held me once
And her memory
Is grace to me.