Our big golden dog twitches in yelping
contentment as he dreams at my feet his dreams
of a perfect canine heaven, where chased,
and chasing, he forever runs with us,
while upstairs you sleep, I imagine, so
the dream in you might tendril itself out
of your long brown hair and suffuse the air
with the jasmine and cardamom our nights
proffer to you, as our daughter clutches
the petals of cherry blossoms and the meat
of papaya in her little scamp hands,
which are restful in her green bassinet
as she lifts her simian legs toward
the stars she cannot see spinning above,
and I tender you this apple, this leaf
on sunflower stem, this homely flourish,
radiant bloom of the present held fast
against time with its atticful of squirrels
crazy with the jealousy of decay;
hold us here in the spiral of the rose.
Gulf Stream Magazine 