October

Love is:

hearing a song

having it stop

and still hearing the rest

 

It’s three women

watching and smiling

fat lorikeets

eating apples from a tree

 

It’s looking at those trees

through squinted eyes

turned silver white

and seeing them line heaven 

 

It’s being met

at a cliff edge 

by the reassurance of Wind

and a warm womb of green

 

It’s a reflex of thought

that seeks the pulse

of a treasured stranger

in the far nearby

 

It’s having a fire 

that burns a path

towards a place

that seems already familiar.

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