Love In Wine Country
Phosphorescent charges have blown
the quilted dark off a tiny town.
A thousand starlings leap from fields
around us and swirl into the clouds.
Jays follow in squawking riot, then
finches green and gold and a storm
of hummingbirds, all aflutter as
from my fingers. I reach into your touch,
slip into the orange arms of a lily.
Pulsing green with each green breath,
vines and maples hold me to you
with their weightless gasping leaves.