To the Distant Beloved

The overlook park on a dull, spring afternoon:
the wind teases whitecaps from the grey-blue lakes,
set in a medley of every shade of green
shining from the trees all around the hills and shores.
Bright green, pale green,
dull evergreen, pure green
newly burst from the branches.
A medley of white and grey clouds
above
with stormy darkness in the west
that may tease later with its promise
of lighting, thunder and rain,
God knows we need the rain.

The beauty is overwhelming
even on this workless day when the Sun,
takes a day off
from beaming brightly.

How much I wish to share this with you:
the rolling hills,
the twilight water mirrors that expand the dusk,
the grand, high views of the waters,
the hawks circling and the eagles at nest,
the fantastic winding roads through green corridors of wonder,
the bright flowers seeking their fullest consummation on waking,
the grass reborn.

Even more than the touch of your lips,
the feel of your body,
the music of your voice,
I long to show you all this wonder,
tell you every rustic story,
take you to every homespun eatery,
drink with you at every half-empty bar,
and welcome you in every hollow niche of my heart.