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.