Following a trail
of cougar movement
his everyday likeness lost
save for his shirtless torso
perfectly proportioned
sculptured by the morning light
casting its lines
through the bedroom window
as he tucks clean underwear
into the dresser drawer;
leaves a watermark
the bouquet of aged memory
stills from the past,
impressions suspended in time
by abrupt beauty,
the kind that inspires creation
unfolding imagination
like the sides to a box of eternity;
lifts my spirit
in the wake of his presence
with eyes so green
as if I were floating
across a field
glazed in dew,
the glow of dawn
the color of beginning
surrounds me with feathered grace
and slows the magic
to a drip
long enough
for me to see
how it’s done.
