The way the sun’s warmth
makes leaves shudder
a million miles away
 
I want that with you.
 
I want the translation
lengthening in a seed
when earth’s dark night
will not release it
 
the headless splendor
of instinct
unlike any human tarring
pushing through bark.
  
Is there any other way
to want you more
 
than
turn that burning color
just before
leaves fall
 
let loose the branch
without a flutter
land completely earth
kissing the ground
with your lips.
 

October 28, 2007

                       Deanna Nikado