by Keiko Shibata
the familiar is cherished
a fragrance
of flowers and intimacy
whispered under the flame
of dusk’s candlelight
the dew of morning
after a night of moisture
from the heavens
recognizable is the contour
of each breath
the aftertaste of affection
I feel no guilt
only freedom
the wind chill of winter
is harsh enough
I bathe and return
to the etchings of my work
only to wait and return
to the sublimity
of a devoted lover.