SECOND VERSE...

A Second
Lovesong of the Inner Girl

As usual too early, just from fear of being late,
I climbed his hill and drove back into winter,
Stood there behind the bright red truck,
Looked down into the hollow,
At a clearing not much bigger
Than the little house within it --
Tossed together, tall, the work of his own hands
And in its own way
Perfect.

Up too early in the morning, just from being lazy late,
I dressed and tiptoed down the stairs,
Set out to find the outhouse in the drifting snow,
The air much warmer than had been expected.
I sat among the chain saw gear and through the open door
Saw dry white flakes blow gently by,
Like them the breaking morning
In its own way
Perfect.

Upstairs again: his bed and his embrace,
My sudden wild abandon, found so late,
Set free by touch so gentle and so rough at once,
Sweet unrelenting push beyond my bounds --
Then gazing upward in surprise, I saw him
Veil his eyes and heard him moan,
Moan back at me in answer,
That too in its own way
Perfect.
.