The First Hint of Love

There are days when I cannot find

any formal explanations

- for example the sudden thrill

that pierces an unknown part of me

when I first meet a particular person

or view a certain scene.

It is as if my soul grown old

flowing rich and deep

and full of juice

                 gave an electric wink
back down the years to say, hey
this is no momentary image
on a moving screen, you

have just met the beginning
of your shared history
- as each year passes,
this person,
this place,
will add and add to itself
to become more oceanic,

more loved, more truly
known - and so carefully

poured like honey into your soul

it will be impossible

to think of your life without them.

Passenger on the Water Taxi

Why would a woman live alone on an island?

Hide herself away from love and friends?

She’d have to be a recluse, self-reliant, maybe

weird? – Or have a very strong belief

in being some sort of emerging artist

choose one or all, it can’t be easy.

She asks the same of herself – if she knew

she would answer – though she can’t

imagine anything other than island life.

But I can tell you. It’s the boat in flight

away and back that holds her there:

her relaxed slump, her trance-blank stare

don’t reveal the involuntary rush of joy

flooding her limbs as her eyes drink

up the sea, in all its green blue-green moods

as if once again she’s following the call

of a memory like a migratory bird.