Drop for the Cactus

Drop for the Cactus 

I pieced together my image of you in my head

And I wanted nothing more than for it to be a version of real

At minimum a flavor in the spectrum of truth

Like a strawberry, though you are really a raspberry  

Rather than the fruit of an alien unicorn-tree or of a domestically native cumquat

Grown in all honest germination without intervention of man

I say, I would hope you to be in this realm

For the romantic in me sees the husk gathering weevils on summer’s crop  

The sunsets and sunrises are all the more expansively ecumenical

With the possibility that some morsel of the way my imagination

Wraps around the profile of your name to be made worthy of mentioning

That I am in context possibly befitting a torrent of emotional precipitation  

The energy at which this sound is divergent from the historical parade

Of stationary stamped out post to a standard office day’s production

So in this correspondence I see an inkling of a dream raised like a flare

Back in a day without pause comingled in all the others non responses  

To prepare me happily surprised that this one laid seed to the smallest of apertures

Like the dew droplet of a hope formed on a grass blade I had by chance

Left unnoticed from the nightfall of our last words until this morning’s intersection

And so it was the water was always there in its miniature place-holding station  

That so in the world changes in such extensions from such size

The oak, the redwood, the gullies, bend at the whim of what might be inside

Such fanciful spherical treasure chests holding blueprints for all great measures of men

So I am pausing on what to say to you, your face, the remembrance  

That I wrote this to you then and you wrote this to me when and my

How I want the water to flow from this as nourishment for the cactus

For in that drop is all a man may ever need