Back when it didn’t rain - back when the clothes would dry outside - back when the static was so loud nothing else could be remembered. Back then I saw you, walking silently in my garden - white dress - witch - quiet - invisible silence. Like you have passed over but not yet. Something in the way we are moving reminds me of Tolkien. The rapturous silence of deep forrest - the brightest bird flying high over temple fortresses. There is life and there is death. There is a new map being drawn in front of our very noses. See it? From invisible hands it is being drawn - marked out as if there were a future that we can’t imagine. For a map is not a destiny - but a landscape - a landscape that is new and unfathomed - a pioneering space where ancestors once trod. I remember being in the dark, dank cave with you. I remember my own reluctance to get under cover of stone for fear of entrapment - for fear of being tombed in. But this is not our life together. We are light rain - fertile and good. We are soil openers - thirst quenchers. When I said to you we have done the hard work of tiling the top soil - I was right - from here on - we plant - what do we plant? What seedlings to you want to enjoy the harvest of? What are mine? We don’t just willy nilly allow the weeds to seed - but with intention choose what will grow - till it with our wills and let nature be our allie. There is not a lot to say with you right now. Tenderly, tenderly we go - too many words can spoil a good poem - or meal - or anything of beauty. Thats what we are doing: tending beauty in all her forms. Do you like what you see here? Do you like what I bring here? I like you. Always have - have me - have me having you - in the way of the rain - falling freely, not knowing as it hits the ocean - am I the sea or the droplet? - but one. One thing like everything.