The Landing

(Written 7/2/07 - for M.P)
Sunlight dying
across the Delaware
breeze brushing bare shoulders
as creeping dark climbs
clinging to the trees
greeting tiny boats not far from shore
I dangle my small feet,
river air prickles the skin.

I should like that only the sound
of sighs whisper in this music-night
I am chilled
and calm
and I know nothing,
but your eyes are three colors.

The tiny toy boats float
you smile to ask, may we come aboard?
and laughing lightly
at the absurdity of the thought
not of sailing a stranger's fleet
but how my guarded heart now dangles
like my tiny frozen feet.

-J