At My Desk

Sitting at my desk
composing these notes
I have lost the day --
As an evening sun fades,
a gust of lonesome wind shifts.
(I watch the now becoming the past.)
Listening to a chorus of singing cicadas,
I pause: and it is worth everything
feeling alive. My pen: bringing new
images that form the words
I write to the woman I love
with all my heart, my mind, my soul.
She is everything and nothing...
Her broad smile prevails upon
the eye in the mind...
And I am more then happy (as
the emotion that rules my view
of the world) keeps me.
The quiet of this moment
comforts me.
The writing
continues: letters, words,
syntax, meaning, feeling,
language, truth, intent,
error, discovery...
My note has formed:
as the sun
falls another inch
the wind shifts;
(the singing cicadas)
and then like
before
more quiet.