April was here and then,
in the morning of the world,
In the morning of marriages,
Performing gardens,
And orchids,
And other magic for our delight…
That hour at midnight
When we could not sleep,
The touch of hands
The unexpected rapture.
Those late breakfasts,
Our eyes meeting, speaking
Without speech of something
Always being lost
And always being found.
And April is here now,
In the morning of gardens,
And in the morning of orchards,
Performing weddings.