love
is a wing
with many, many feathers
oft neglected and ignored
and the keen light of the sky is denied
the gift of ardent flight

i wear my love for you
as a plume
woven invisible in the filaments of my hair
unnoticed
while the winds of action blow
but sometimes to tumble into my sight
when the calm of stillness falls
then
it whispers to me of our estate
telling me nothing

boundaries unknown, territory unmapped

for orla
2001