A Lover's Life

Yesterday I ventured

into deep snow

by the river

for a lover’s look

at the curves of her

I had not yet seen,

she, a dancer lightly

on smooth stone

pavements,

the air of her

swirling skirts

moving water grasses

to ecstatic praise

and me to

weightlessness.

Alas, in the deep snow

I am a lover

tightly bound to earth

as if by a

white pulse

of gravity,

a sudden surge

of friction,

down.

The world’s surface

is a pastry crust,

a paper face,

a planar geometry

of symbolism

for what lies below—

a man’s foot sinking 

to frozen ground,

stepping and sinking

like stones overboard,

but most of all

a man’s willingness 

to sink

in search of

a lover’s look

until firmness 
find me again 
and grant another step.