A Plane Across the Sky

To Gwyneth with Love
To the Glory of God

Love poetry is the effort to divide out love and beauty.
You are that beauty.
Clouds scattering for the love of blue
sharing in a sunrise.
Laughter has its source in beauty.
Irony is a sense of comparison
as if your statue is all the art there is.
Joy is one king of laughter
humour is the other like the vapour of a plane
as it trails spelling “Hi” in the sky.
Verses clouds following a plane across the sky.
Birds draw our eyes to beauty with their feathers
like souls of irony.
The interplay of the sky, the horizon and the trees.
Love is the greatest because it gives us all the gifts we have
even during war we can love.
We can fight for our enemy to not make fighting its imperative.
We can share the landscape on a cool breeze
as we lie by the side of the road
with hollow giants rattling by.
We differentiate with love and we talk with love.
You are the only one I cannot separate myself from
over who you are and who I am.
Like a baby suckling a nipple I live
all things coalesce and are distinct in you.
Women have us in their heads.
They are stronger in worldly ways.
Who is someone without their friends?
Our health is in their hands.
The sky cradles the clouds but the clouds show off the sky.
Innocence is the knowledge that judgement
is beyond the gravity of all things.
All there is is the gravity of the topic.
Mystery plays with our minds.
All problems begin with a need to control.
The need to control causes machines.
Machines offer power.
It takes time to harness power.
One forest falls to chain saws
giant trees are exposed to the wind
but are not made to be exposed.
Economics puts money in responsible behavior
or else tyrants will rise again
but only out of convenience not humanity.
These steps are recent
and like all recent steps we can hope
we can share faith in humanity
with different kinds of spirituality.
Yet love, to truly care, to revel in a world made to love
for our fulfilment;
that is the crux, that is the power of a new sky.
and a new dance upon a fine line.
Where we open our eyes to see that is when we are in the light
while knowing we do not know where that power came from.
I give it to her but more still I know that finding her
was not mine nor is who she is.
Where love begins is never known
yet we can thank beauty.
I thank her but I do not know how or where
that began.