I first saw you play a violin
like a cattail on a virgin wind.
You were only an outline then.
Tracing clouds with your eyes
only later did I see,
and petals with a brush–
moons of marble and filigree.
A thrush then sang
our shared revelation
and a sun swept hillock–
our shared embrace.
Read me all your stories,
and tell me all your dreams.
I am an island on your foam.
Name me all your flowers
growing wild on my shores.