Loving Hymn

To love him is a matter
of building brick and gold
walls, splashing in hot weather,
walking in cold feet.

It is to build a weir
by day and tear it down
by night, speak in silent voices
from many cages deep.

It is to plant a tree that bends
this way and that and
while the apples never fall
the ground stays apple full.

It is to pick the black
fish from white waters
inside his eyes for a new
purpose under our sun.

It is a matter of telling him
of love and what suffices,
a song I sing to hush
all his surrounding noises.