I would gladly catch
the morning dew’s ticklish scent
in a web for you
and spin a glittering string
out of my mouth’s
silver-plated cave.
A thread
that would gleam
for your eyes only
and would not cling
to your waltzing feet.

I would diligently cut a path
to keep this delicate yarn intact,
away from the break and tumble
of any careless stumble.

I would readily show you
the flashing wink of light
in the finger-stir of wind
through waterfall-branches;
The sacred whisper
in the secret plop of fin
through murky waters.

I would joyously dance
my dragonfly shimmer
around your legs
and in myrrh growth 
encircle your body
with red and yellow
marigold leaves.

I would bring
with primitive abandon
the moon’s lilting drum
to your fire-ring
and together
we would find the mystery
of quiet life
embedded
in a hollow willow tree.
Feeling the aureole
of it pulsate
against own heartbeat.

If I could only
pool your eyes
against the smooth tummy
of a rock-bed
and wash myself
in your pebbly filter-stream,
we could
once again
(in rinsed renewal) 
inhale the blue of tranquility.