Your life, left out in the rain, rises from green folds,
Dropping memories, sodden shirts, and ties
Across the garden,
Planting them selves the moment they are forgotten.
Returning as quiet secrets.
Did I wait for you thus
Once in WW II?
I called you in from the rain that night
Bombs fell, and stars fell.
In the morning I found a shoe, thrown off
Lying beside the red Poppies.
You stand here, by the bird feeder
Arms open to the rain, and darting Gold Finch.
A shadow memory held in the smile
As you turn toward me.
You, beside a blue-tiled pool,
Rain sluicing off bare shoulders, arms lifted,
Setting free your Falcon.
I was there as I am here,
Living in the penumbra of my mysteries,
Photographs in pentimiento visions
Grafted to time, and love, and longing.