When I first looked into your malachite eyes
so many years ago I forget, they drew
me in and I fell like a pebble down a well
except for the splash, cause I just kept
falling and have never hit bottom.
And I knew that there was something
ancient and wise in you that I would never
understand, but it didn’t matter, because
I just knew that I had to be close to it.
In its glow. Whatever it was. And is.
And in my wisps of memory, I remember
driving up a hill and watching a girl walk
up the sidewalk, and me thinking in my
loneliness that I wished that I had
a girlfriend with a nice butt like that.
And then the girl turned her head,
and miracle of miracles she smiled
at me and she was you.
And ever since that first gift of a smile,
you’ve brought me immeasurable
bounty. Much better than Zeus’ gifts to
Copia, Fortuna, and Pax. The cornucopia.
Years of interesting conversations most
couples won’t have in a lifetime
about issues both mundane and sublime.
Always thoughtful, if not always in agreement.
Miles of roads travelled, hand in
hand with each other, and sometimes
with ancestors, both yours and mine.
Time stands still, and flies.
Acres of understanding of my strange
Iowa man/boy ways. Sometimes
above and beyond your own best judgment.
Thank you.
And my God, the gifts of children,
first yours, then ours, then ours again. Then
lovely grandbabies. You brought your teeming
river of life up and over the banks, immersing me.
Joyfully.
And now I’m the luckiest guy in the world
pulling kid’s bikes out of the driveway,
cooking spaghetti for the millionth time,
unplugging clogged toilets, hearing
the story of Archaeopteryx yet again,
among thousands of the other small
joys of our good life.
And believe it or not, every time
I look into your green eyes, they still draw
me in and I fall like a pebble down a well
except for the splash, cause I just keep
falling and know that I will never hit bottom.
