I was gathering beet greens
when I saw the sleeve of his jacket
reach around my waist.

A tremor filled my heart,
as I had been longing for his kiss
so many lonely days on the bayou
wondering when he might return…

If he might return.

I dropped my elbow full with the harvest
of summer heat… long days yearning
to feel his life force melt into mine,
our muscles churning in cosmic time.

“Looks like we need a new lightbulb for the porch.”
His smile spoke of more than the practical.
He was home! Home with me! Home, still with
the love and wonder of our first cinnamon kiss.

A bucket of strawberries spilled out next to us,
like hearts begging for love’s blessing,
as we dropped to our knees in grace,
with only the distant elk as witness.