Love
Love pushes up from the ground, heedless of wind or winter, unconcerned with battles long died the season before.
Love new, sure, unconscious, with streamline fibers which continue and continue towards the blessed sun. Warm in the nooks of arms and legs, heated in the nape of the neck, rushing with healing waters, gentle stream running through my worried head, pervading my veteran heart.
He hovers between sleep and my tree house, sighing happiness.
I know that he feels the same, gentle horse, faithful hound, rabid wolf, moon singer, farmer of the night, tilling the soil.
By my side, gentle love.