The orchard of the heavens
pours the juice of land and sky
unto the ungrateful;
amongst them, you and I
And if tired hands
let go of frail shelter
I will be there,
not as witness,
but to bury burning fingers,
woven into thirsty layers
(my willow-woman's hair)
And the rain will spring up scarlet bloom,
a fruit of warmth, a shared taste for two.
And should you hold fast to the dry
I may show you in another life,
that taste of wonder,
where I will be the rain,
and you, the weeping willow
fondled in the thunder...
Ева и Йоана, благодаря ви за думите