anew, emerging from the chrysalis
of my former life.
I stretch my wings to dry,
down to me. Your wings
are halos, two shining suns, bright
I join you in a wedding
dance as morning rises. We share
honeysuckle nectar. Our wingtips
touch, touch. Open, close. Slow
passion. Our joining
lazy and good.
No one whispers
more quietly than we.
Mary Stebbins Taitt
Published in City Edition, May 29, 1989