Garden Tryst

We will arrive in our Garden at the same moment, as the leaves are soaking up the food of light and waving their health into the air we eagerly breathe. It will make us hasten our steps, even break into a run to close the gap between us, before darkness claims its rule over the colors and aromas of the folding flowers. Is that aroma I sense as I cross the the Garden's edge a lilac bush spreading its purple scent? No, it is the sweetness of your being carried on a barely moving current that twists around me, and I feel your presence everywhere, and in everything. A solitary bird perches high above us in a maple trees, whose branches are fiery with the red glow of evening. He sings his song within only our hearing. The rest of the night belongs to us. (This poem was inspired by a gorgeous poem by Konstantin Balmont describing a garden at twilight. It has been translated by Liza Sud.)