HONEY FROM THE ROCK

My love must hold to fluency
as to statute, fable,
rock of what imprints us in the shakes of being where we are.

Hold
to the shifts of light
hold
to the spring and heap of water brings it in, junk
of night and flowers, takes it out.
Sweet flag of dawn,
our integreties are all the inroads we can make,
their poles.

Life sucks itself to life in Granny Day's swamp
as I wait for you
and you for me,
and bullfrog music environs common spring.

Rain fills the pools,

I cannot declare my love
but 
it holds to fluency as I imagine holding you.