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It comforts me at night when I'm away
To know you're looking up at the same sky
And that the stars that faintly touch my eye
Are shining down on you as bright as day.
I like to feel that if I could convey
My thoughts to them, then they could turn and sigh
Them back into your ears, so that when I
Stare up and long for you, you'd know. But they
Are deaf. And so I sit and write
Keeping the starlight in my heart and pen
So it will shine to you across the screen
In every word pinned down in black and white
And when you look up to the stars again
You'll think of me, and what I'd have them mean.

Inside Out

As the cold again assaults the land
We huddle closer, desperate to get warm.
Yet I desire you as close at hand
As this in summer, when the fatal form
Of burning sunlight coats the world in bright.
The seasons change, and change, but this remains:
From heat to chill, from blooming green to white,
I want to be by you. Our love ingrains
And teaches us in being loved to love
So that each touch, each glance produces more
Whether the winter sky whistles above
Or summer thunderstorms begin to pour
Still we shall cling together close and say
Our love is warm, whatever is the day.

Green land

How much would it be better if they knew
Their lines? If such emotion can be drawn
From minds that unremember what has gone
Before, then how much might they come to do
If all could be remembered through and through?
It would be like the rising of the dawn
Upon an arctic land, a frozen lawn
Awaiting melting. Oh, if it were true!
For then the show, like Anchorage in spring
Should see itself and pleasure in the sight;
Letting the months of summer warmly cling
Knowing the winter and the endless night
Are coming, but enjoying for the time
The pleasantest environ of the clime.

Parallel

The games you play

Upon your phone

Won't go away;

We're not alone.

But even so

I do not care

As long as you 

And I are there.

I play as well

We watch TV

And I can tell

That you love me

Because we're us

And happy thus.

By a sleep to say

I cannot help but think that day's not done
That ends with us apart. It cannot be.
What would be the point of it? You see,
It can't have ended, or even begun,
If it is so. I am not in denial,
Or totally incapable of sense;
Nor am I in the state of innocence,
But rather well prepared to make a trial.
I prove it cannot be by logic, thus:
I would not voluntarily submit
To such a state, and, if forced into it,
I'd work myself into a royal fuss
And could not sleep. Therefore the day would still
Be paralyzed for me by my own will.

Content

There is no place I would rather be
Than in your sight--ideally by your side.
And if there's one thing I could never hide
It was the fact you meant something to me.
And now I have you matrimonially:
My one, my only, and my loving bride.
So now, content, I usually abide
Except in cases where, as presently,
You are away. And then I find again
The yearning opens and a different sense
Invades my soul--I feel my former yen
No longer sated, but regrown immense
Reminds me what it was to lack you--so
I want you back, to never let you go.

Styrt

Come let us become our newfound selves
Not ceasing still to be that which we are
As when the crystal rock a miner delves
Is chipped and cut into a shining star
Persisting elementally unchanged.
So shall we two, formally rearranged
Retain our pasts and still go forth as one;
Staying the same and yet transforming too
As vapor settles into morning dew
And rises with the heat of noontime sun
Remaining water as all this is done
Even in crystals when it freezes through.
So shall we be, becoming something new
Always ourselves. A lifetime has begun.

Let it Go

The clouds are frozen like a painted scrim
Against which we should play some hopeful scene
Full of delightful power in the dim
Yet oozing sunlight. Octarine
Shadows pulse from who knows where and touch
The flowers--also frozen in the sun--
Which at first glance seemed to be nothing much
But are transformed. And all of this is done
But in an instant. Soon the clouds will roll
The light will blaze again in summer heat
The shadows, banished, melt, the flowers wilt.
Yet here and now, before the time is spilt,
The moment generates a crystal soul
Like music on a staff presents a beat.

Sweat

Even on the days I drip with sweat
Pooling above my brows in salty lakes
Fogging my glasses, I cannot forget
How much more effort what you're doing takes.
I can't pretend my little exercise
No matter how I push myself, can be
As strenuous as that which daily lies
Upon your shoulders taking care of me.
So thank you for your every single day;
Your constant presence and your constant care;
Your love and your affection on the way;
And all the ways that you are always there
For me. I'm happy to be blessed with you
And hope that I can make you happy too.

Montana

As all ours do, my patience has an end
And yet it has not come, somehow, with you;
It has with everyone I call my friend,
So that, by now, I must expect it to.
And yet I find that nothing that you do
(No matter how annoying it might seem)
Rubs me awry sufficiently to screw
My patience from its sticking place. I scream
Internally sometimes, or in a dream,
But do not find myself inclined to say
I'm done--my patience rises as a cream
Over my frustration. Though I fray,
I have not yet unraveled. Nor shall I;
My patient love's unbounded as the sky.