she composes poetry
in a spiral cloud draped
across a crescent moon
bold black letters circling
the miniscule page, as she
measures meter and rhythm
by the length of her arms
and the palms of her hands
counting out syllables
with fluttering fingertips
and breath from her lips
pen poised at pristine page
words waiting to awaken
sings sotto voce serenade
against diaphanous backdrop
of lavender and honey
and i, defenseless man
drooling saccharin haikus,
cannot help but love her

– Dan Evans