Soft Love Song

New Square
19 hours ago
1 min read

Daniel Thompson

My gentle lover with her tongue to the rain.

Her mouth carved into the minutes of the day.

Her form slinking into evening strings.

Her voice, the symphony of the cold woodwinds,

A sonata through the cypress below the spheres.

She is the revolution of the sumptuous air cycling,

In the halo of sun-streams, the glorious revolution.

She is firmness, rootedness, and husky depths.

She is the moment where tree meets ground.

She is the great garden, the ever-unfolding orchard,

The bloom of the orchid, the ocean of lantana,

A northern cardinal proceeding against the green.

Recent Posts

See All

The Unraveling

Annie Meitchik It was the kind of morning where Ingrid’s feet stung as she swiveled out of bed touching the wooden floorboards tentatively, the way one might dip a toe in a swimming pool. She wrapped

Swings

Eugene Navakas I zipped the tent shut and fell asleep. Which was prohibited, which I didn’t realize. Which was unfortunate, because, according to Google’s translation of the website, “there may be a s

The Lesson

Brad Davis from a photograph by Dawoud Abu The guitar’s warm wood resonates with each tentative pluck and strum. The child’s shoulders slump forward, eyes trained on the teacher’s fingers— the wall be

Comments