To Those Who, Breath on Breath, Try to Read Each Other’s Hearts

 

Over the boardwalk

in curves descending

down to the river

that hugs its islands like a cape,

 

trees arch and bend,

subduing breeze

in a tight embrace.

There when you enter

 

the hush of that long arcade,

you begin to step

deeper and deeper

where green is all,

 

darkly in green stained—

the air, the scents, the shade,

and even breath—

even breath,

 

one that, ripening in rapture, bliss,

is at once both young and enough old

to gladly ride and read

where that frieze may run

 

by leading hearts

hitherto unsung

or unnamed,

its chosen kin

with its woos

and hallowed vows.