Love Lines Along the Years

As unpredictable

as a Kansas thunderstorm,

with a line so specific

I can see its beginning

like a shower curtain across the road,

you rain down retorts,

nearly drown in the flood.

As winding in unforeseen directions

as roads in upstate New York

carve into new territory

through hemlocks once useful in tanning

past waterways long known as ''kills,''

you rush past tall truths,

defend streams of consciousness.

As frigid as December Maine mornings

dropping mercury twelve below,

you turn away as surely as the red sky

warns sailors, disappears into swirling golden angels

before the sun

comes up to remind you

my love is right where you left it.