Another Canvas / new poems 2011

How A Heart Sings (for George Baker)

the air is rich,
warm

slow to come,
but there

hovering,
carrying comfort
to a sterile room

breathing life
into languid blood
still cold from a curious sleep

where she
ran fingers through your hair
and whispered,
not yet

the heat of her breath
still lingering across your face,
as you awake

the sun more sure
in a sky hiding her
and a waxing crescent

oh, how a heart sings
for here, for her, for now

lingering a while longer
in the timely warmth
of a winter reminded
of a coming spring