Swear an oath to the music of this brook
Which wears patterns in the pebbles of years.
Navigate home; this ancient site of charms –
Blood-soaked and rain-washed landscape of your heart –
Must be a place you return to, often.
Your love is ever green in the bleach-wash
Of autumn, your soul the hopeful paintbrush
Of spring. I am yours in the languorous hours
Of summer, and still yours when grim ice blasts
Of winter march in. Bind this in silver.
When you feel unexpected sun dazzle
As you look up, whisper incantations
Under that same sky, feel stones at your feet,
Muster those parts of the stars in your limbs
To dance in time; your promise remembered.
