what you say means the world to me

what you say means the world to me
be it light as a swan's feather,
or leaden--like buttery
golden cakes of corn

just make sure
there are elements of nature
in your countenance
when you speak

you've just lost me
when you pontificate
about who is dying in the news

i read the reports; i know the numbers
tell me how it makes you feel 
as what you feel allows me to know

how it is real for you;
i am not ordering you to speak
any special way

i am just informing you
what turns me away, what
makes me peer out the window

at the traveling blue grey river
which causes me to linger
and listen to the strains of

chopin melting into jazz
a pirouette, morphing into
a barefoot lunge

messing around the house
when it's raining--we clean up,
we study, & listen

whoever has decided
that my favorite month
will be littered with rain

needs to have their head
examined; i am missing
the golden honey of october

shining on the maple wood
table, in the late afternoon light
as we scurry--getting ready

for a warm soup meal--
as the light descends earlier,
we embrace the darkness

light pours back into our vessels
as if on fire with the warmth
of our rose scented skin

Kate Lamberg
10/9/12

Pink red rose, at the Portland Rose Garden~