My heart yearns for lighter fare,
for frolic and whimsy, a stolen kiss

mid-morning, and the day is yet ahead
with all of the promise the years once held

bright sun or warm rain,
either would do

it is timeless here
in the garden

the aroma of the earth is you,
the burning heart of stars is you

the breeze that holds the memory,
the foretelling wind

a single thought indulged,
over and over

detail slips away
until there is doubt once ever was

perhaps there was no sun,
no rain, no earth or stars

perhaps there is no garden

Chagall 2020