Live with Love

Early in the morning
turtle dove notes throbbed softly,
a cock pheasant announced the sun,
the creek flooded after night’s rain,
early in the morning.
The arms of the bed embraced lovers,
lovers content with gray hair,
wrinkles, comfortable fire
on cool evenings.
But you slop about with untied shoes,
while bread molds, milk sours,
meat spoils, a day rot on its stem.
I cannot save you
from sore fingers if you persist
in picking nettles with bare hands,
despair is not compulsory, only
the wounded complain about thorns.
Love, the adventurer,
triumphs with tenderness,
marks with his footsteps
the land you thought you had been promised.