Summer Solstice

It is interesting that, today, I would
walk to the water. Two rows of
eucalyptus trees lined the gravel path.
The giant eucalyptus, you know, is
often called the widow-maker for its
habit of shedding heavy branches
without careful warning. It’s true
that we should be wise to whom
we grant our rest, but look, darling,
life makes widows of us all.
Can you close the eyes of your deceased,
lay gentle flowers upon the body,
and offer up your broken heart to
a giant you don’t understand?
Tell me, can you love your widow-maker?
Look towards the sun, you were
never not sacred. The whole world is
waiting to meet you, the heart-flame who
learned to bow to the very, very thing
that will put it out.