Thomas Lowe Taylor -- Yours was the day.

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What came to me, golden showers
of light reminding me of former
times, when there was no time;
and I fold across myself
reaching in two directions.

What holds is the score and tempo
of what's within, uncounted
but roughed aside and other.

the unitive hour returns and holds you
with sympathy and grace.
I reach out to you and you are there.

No flower blooms so bright as your eyes.
I see in them a being coming through my
reflection and self doubt.
I hold you close and real
You help me pull the needle from
my heart
We grow into this sentence willingly,
we say `this is the day' over and over.
What shore returns this healthy dance
we've made unto us in its own
moment. I heal and sing and
call your name, beloved. You answer.

March 3, 1994