In Half-Spring

In Half-Spring

Read my sparks
in detachment, for the
intimate collage.

In agony of
summer moon, let us sit
on grass and watch the
shooting stars.

Writing the god poems
for you, was not easy for me.
I would bruise my wrist
to lift the pen.

In massive handshakes,
the birthing of
beautiful relationship took no name.

And now shelling
the nuts, I give you all
the kernels. Today it was a
good night to leave.