At the Anchor house

Blue-jay and clovers wrap my thoughts
in the silent night when seagulls storm the sky
and your ways come on my mind
while pure transits steal some light
from the regions of love and peace.

At the boundary of silence
God has spoken to me
I wonder if you sleep with your face
down against the pillow in the house
by the rocks where the sea is blue
and air smells like jasmine and medlars.

Professor, are you thinking about marriage?
I am not asking when or how as the music
of an harp fills the church on the mountain
and overwhelming joy contemplates
the world clear like water in flames
vibrating with music waves
and unfolding love and butterflies.