simply tilting at windmills,
and dining on fires,
the land is lucky
to see the day
how we see the night...
as full of rhythm
and romance,
building up to a midnight crescendo
where we kiss on a porch,
so drunk on poetry
that we swing
and are caught
by rocking chairs...
nothing to care about
except where
we will dance tonight
with the moon tucked
under our shirts,
supported by bodies
bound for each other...
for a moment,
brief and beautiful
I forget the past
and swirl in silence
as loud as life itself,
deaf to destiny
listening to now.