a villanelle by Thomas Davis
“Beside the cottonwood,” I start to say.
She looks at me. Words fade out of my head.
What now? I think. I focus on the way
She’s standing by the massive tree, the gray
Streaked through her hair a halo that has wed
Her essence to the glinting interplay
Of light and shadow dancing leaves that sway
And flutter in a breeze that seems to tread
Out from the tree into the fields of day.
The sudden silence morphs into dismay,
Confusion, even, maybe, just a hint of dread.
What if, inside a moment, disarray
Has somehow found our lives and cutaway
The passion in our hearts that’s always led
To moments that are glorious and fey.
But then she smiles. The tree’s roots dig through clay
And living sustenance flows to the spread
Of branches reaching to the sky, the play
Of light her spirit as my spirit’s quay.
fourwindowspress 
A beautiful and loving tribute
I wrote this primarily because of your photo, Linda. I think I’ll post that next.
This is a beautiful and deep love poem, Tom, and as always, a masterful piece. I love it!
I probably learned that from you, Betty.
That’s kind of you to say, Tom – but methinks they come to you naturally.
So tender, open and intimate.
Thanks Ben Naga.
Thank you for inviting us readers into your heart.