soft snow layered on fire

for my valentine, rick

your softness is what lead me
to reach over the piano keys
and lean... into your 12 strings
one late summer afternoon

over white wine in a paper cup
so close to the huge sprawling beech
with a little white picket fence-
housing tiny purple violets

that day--yellow dandelions sang
in the finely clipped yard
where i walked and heard a shrill bird
in a dead oak alongside an unruly pond

you saw me stroll,
and stayed in your car
until it was time to share your music
inside the echoey gallery

'thirsty boots' and 'norwegian wood'
were the songs that made me
sit a little more upright--
hearing the honey wheat of your voice

and listen to the soul of a man
whose honesty
still wins--
all four compartments

of my heart
on fire, still---
on this post full moon morning

~kate lamberg (c) '17