This everlasting season

The hot kettle squeals

In the kitchen, in the spring.

Your smile, my hope,

Across the way, looms

Brilliantly in my view

Like the pleasant hope

In the sky, on a night

Lived like a daydream.

I never hoped or knew of

Any of that. The spring,

With its buds and lively

Branches, animated in green

Were the call to become

For me. I was to be more

Than the seasons passed,

Other short springs, mostly

The long winters of my home,

Or scalding summers therein.

But you smile even in the

Dark, even when I'm blinded,

Because you know I feel it,

Love it, like the fresh caress

Of new growth.

We can lay ourselves down

In fields of grass with

Wine and picnics, flowers

And naive hope, because

Without it we will never

Make it through.

Without it, darling,

Without your smile,

Cultivated from the power

Of the sun, we cannot live

in this everlasting season.