first day
I’m hangover, often
when I return
From your garden
I Gaze star-scattered out a window
While my inner clock
Stays firmly on
Eternity
These days
pollen flecks my skin
With a constant note
Of honey
And though we’ve had
Daisy-chains of days like this
Your welcome always feels
first-time fresh,
Like a crocus
Opens a golden hand
Into a new season.
Perhaps
When you’re In love
It is always
The first day?