Every natural form — palm leaves and acorns, oak leaves and sumach and dodder — are untranslatable aphorisms.

– Thoreau

THE SHADOW OF FERNS

Some night you will be cold
and alone. Maybe an animal
is crying outside or the wind
is dragging a branch of palm
across the roof and it wakes you.
If you love me, say my name aloud.

There is no ceremony.
Just say it once or twice
into the darkness, or into the cool
electric glow of your lamp.
Say it slowly to a patch of moonlight
on the rug.

Maybe I will hear it, as I stare
at the vague shadow of ferns
cast by the moon on my drapes.
Then say it for hope, for life,
for the distance between us.

© by J. Kyle Kimberlin