I want to express happiness in the color of the light that your smile brings. I don’t know only feel why I think of you, why the thought makes me warm, and, in warmth, sensitive to the voices in the earth, the clarity of your eyes looking out, wet in the rain, after the question that, drawn in your motion, in your path through puddles, I dream. The whispers of stars, gravel soaked loose in the rain of time, that we alter with each step, the earthwords of love, are painted in the darkness, the power within the mind, that I sleep in.
October 1971