The Woman I'm Thinking Of

The woman I'm thinking of

wakes me to make love while I'm still asleep.

At any age there is nothing better to do.

from the end of the line to looking forward

everything once I'd made the decision,

done nothing wrong doing good for myself.

It's too nice a morning for anything else.

but a bird singing her song, loud and strong

no sound of vehicles or air compressor,

no droning fork-lifts or marble ladies,

the news of the world so far away

the repetitive syndrome or talking heads

how America's being inoculated

or a deadly derailment near Hualien

A bird is singing; the same song as yesterday's

on the last cool week of Taiwan winter.

It's starting with her dawn surprise

then a bike ride up Freedom Trail

as neighborhood discoveries keep being discovered;

like a bowling alley hidden on Shanghai Street

Indonesian teak furniture up a back road

On our ride back to home sweet home

Stopping at a local bistro to réserve bon soir

before returning to drop off the school bike stand

then through a shortcut cross the junior high

to assemble the third of five bookcases

five flights up the stairs.

having a beer with conversation

while sitting on stools at our dining room bar

before bedding to midnight madness

in the home she got for us

awaking to be surprisingly blessed.

April 5, 2021

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