spells and incantations are
punchlines pounding air
barely worth a chuckle and
lately most of life stacks
a natural order and predictable
placid piecemeal wave
but
a breath and a sigh ago
in the warm night air
somewhere between the pause
of the sunset and
the promise of dawn
you touched me gently
recklessly upsetting all mystery
a promise no proper landing
dancing between knowing and
hiding in a never-land of
grins and giggles
shakes and surprises
dreams and desire
say,
maybe there is magic after all.
douglas brent smith
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