By Gala
Date: 16 March 2001
Illuminating The Ridge
I woke long before dawn,
long before the elegant tease
of grey morning mist gave way to rose blushing,
before the dew gathered,
and the stars were still shining
in soft repose of a tromp d'elais moon.
I woke, and rose bundling in sweaters
in thick warm socks
that would just have to do
until you arrived.
I had important work you see,
placing a candle in every window,
and when they were place,
I gathered up the luminaria---
thankful that the neighbors
were sleeping still,
and not likely to wonder what the daft yankee
was up to this time.
I thought of you,
driving through the night,
music for a companion.
and though the Spring is coming fast,
the season of man's heart
has less to do with precipatation,
and relative temperature
then the vagaries of budding, and rebirth.
The rhodedendron and azaleas might be swelling
but your heart is still waiting
for that first warm day
when the air is just so,
and the scales fall loose
and the growing time is not just a possible,
but a fact.
And I cannot force the season,
but tonight, i can pour some sand
in dozens of colored bags,
set the tealights
and light the road to the cabin
so that when you take the first turn
there can be no doubt
that you are home
that I am here,
and that love is waiting quietly
by the light of a hundred candles
in one small snug house
tucked quietly in the ridge.
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