Reflections of a Man's Heart

For years, the habit of wanting you,

carried like something unnoticed,

lint in a pocket, or manzanita

seed waiting a fire -

you come to me

changed, an old photograph

blurred with motion,

the shutter too slow to keep you the same.

After a while, the light, an old habit

between us, drains off:

simple to meet,

to walk towards evening

in a park at the continent's edge;

simple to talk

until conversation drains off,

a newly decanted wine,

and we're left with the sediment dark

at bottom between us,

desire,

simple to say,

and all the decision pours out of my life,

leaving me buoyant, empty, to float

towards your hand.

 

- Jane Hirshfield, Of Gravity & Angels.