The beauty of this evening is not
The way the sinking sunlight dances on the tops of ancient streams
Or a gleam of light from an antique star.
It is not
The age of a perfect stone worn down by rushing waters
Or the reflection of galaxies through some modern lens.
It is not
Dreams dreamed by thousands in a thousand years
Or hopes hoped by the sleepy eyes of now-dead children.
The magnificence of this lovely day
Is in the breathing of this air with you.
It is in hearing your golden voice
Burble like an infant stream;
It is in the sparkle of your laugh
That shocks the world like the new light of the morning's yellow sun;
It is the warm belly of yours
Jiggling with humor like a warm patch of soft earth;
It is the simplicity of a town full of lights
That you drive me to in your ugly car;
It is your eyes while they sparkle your thoughts,
And it is the daily plans to make and break.
The glories of this most lovely life
Are in the nows now I spend with you.
11 February 2008