Lowlands

1
For God made us to love
Him and then others
in that order.
A silent sort of assurance
that sings softly in my head hung low.
And times don’t always feel like that.

2
A funny-minded fuzzy-headed confusion
is my love for you
when I want to,

and yet more different when I don’t.
The trees all dance as I adore you,
their rhythms embracing all we do
and they moan a doleful dirge
as we make love actions
without a hint of a spark.

3
Your every appearance
in my dead dreary life
rings of foreign, but familiar tunes.