I will give her a heron feather
pressed in the folds of a blank book
intended for the longest love poem.
A promise.
In what language do I write
the words that fit her?
I am an uneducated man
feeling out the letters
of a new vocabulary.
I have come to learn
the lexicon of our open field
and speak the petals
of a shared wish,
the circling red tail of desire,
the stones of forgiveness.
I will learn a language
to ask for the wings
of her eyes to fly with me
to the tall grass of our new home.
Copyright © JP Dancing Bear 2010
