we used to meet, down there by the river
the moon would rest her lazy elbows on the bank
and sigh drunkenly, while the crickets turned to whisper
and the willow, swaying in close, pretending
there was a breeze
sometimes we met out there on the tracks
near that trestle over the forgotten gorge
where the eagle glided to our talk, wondering
why the clouds slowed their passing
down near the beach, deep in the woods, high on the cliff
it didn't matter the place, nor the hour of congregation,
every one-everything, stopped to listen, wanting only
to be a small part in the magic between our words,
it was a once in an eon thing and everybody knew it;
the gods gone silent so long ago, the God of gods and
all His angels long quiet in the sleeping of bored repetition
knew this was different than top 40 pop and mythical bullshit
i knew it too, (did you?)but held back my declaration knowing hubris
would bring it all down, knowing treasure attracts thieves,
and knowing as well, we were just damn lucky
to have found such a miracle at all
the moon is now the moon again, snoring high in the sky,
the trestle rusts in December snow, and the Eagle
has moved on with the clouds
the gods too, winked and moved on, knowing close
doesn't count and humans will forever be human
wild bets wagered on the underdog were paid off
from a purse full of spare moments and Ryan Seacrest
survived while the ancient of days called His band
of angels back to heaven
since that time, if time it even was, we have followed
the rules and exchanged 1,234,837 words between us
but we haven't said a thing
and everybody knows it
