Two Short Poems

Recognition
Having just met,
and still giddy with the hope of it,
we came upon white petals afloat on the dark grass
of a twilit lawn:

trespassing to waltz among them,
pools of street lamp behind and before us,
our first touch was to the shimmer of Hyacinths.

When the Birch Were GoldenIn the wax-melted cranium
of the candle Sage
who bookends
my collection of plays,
the rose you gave me
that Indian Summer ago,
though covered in dust
is still faintly fragrant.