AWAKENING

In the temporary embrace

I speak of eternity.

The wind brings us the calls of the church bells

among the feathers where we rest

our sleepy heads.

It’s morning. Moist air passes

under the viaducts, clouds part

at a touch, buildings at the swallows’ flight,

the farmhands pray for rain that stops,

while the trees give up their leaves

and so the sky grows vaster.

Your hands are soft this morning

and soft is the blossom of the hard almond.

In the nearby church

they have spoken for centuries of a love

that will outlive us.