Tentative love, like a bubble

blown through a child’s wand.

Pop, and it disappears.


It’s like the falling of all daisy petals

with one single uttering of

“He loves me not.”


Really, love, LOVE, is more like air

always present.

The more one exhales

the more rushes in to fill our lungs.


It is like the ocean

whose tides never cease

dancing with the moon.


Like the hummingbird’s wings

that flap with such fury

you can’t even see them.


So give up this crazy idea

of love as a dissolving mist.


Love with impunity!


Love like that rescue mutt

who never leaves his Master’s heels.


Love like that sacred mesa

that hugs the earth,

with unshakable constancy.


Know that all the love you play on your flute

echoes back as a symphony.


Photo: Plaza Blanca, near Abiquiu, NM

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