the enigma

every time I sit with her,
I slip into the silence of a forest,
where mysteries are written
on festive fronds,
dancing in the light
of the darkness around.

every time I sit with her,
I grow into a still leaf,
hanging on the edge
of not knowing
when and how I'm going to
fly or fall.

every time I sit with her,
my eyes close all on their own,
taking me deep into the void,
where everything marries nothing,
where thoughts freeze over a warm lake,
where I sit on the edge
watching ripples make stars,
lost in the wonder of how
humans and animals live together,
skin against skin,
how words fall like dead leaves
to the forest floor,
how skins smell and touch each other
without touching,
with a quiet, endless love.