Daniel Fitzgerald


Daniel Fitzgerald

Seasons exist in your shadow—
That’s how giant you are.
An ice age beings when you stop to smell a flower.
Unless you smile. Then it’s summertime and
Boys and girls grab their swimsuits to go out and be nervous together.

Every step you take, a forest sprouts.
Where the sun has kissed you too long and a freckle set appears?
Local holy men study them; constellations.
Your laugh the moon.
Your thoughts meteors burning through atmosphere.

Habits plow farms, reaping what you sew;
Benevolent and plentiful.
The sierras of your body:
A fence of mountains men choose to die on.
Fog hangs under your eyes.

You rain, the land cries.
Glaciers and valleys form on your mood.
Take me to your river, I want to know your rapids and stills.
Let me drink from your heart,
Thawed from the warmth of my hands.