Crows-Watch

Laying beneath a feather down doona, I glance about the amazingly small hotel room in which we are staying. I am twenty-three years old and I am in love with the girl sleeping next to me.      I'm holding her close, my left hand resting on her stomach, rising and falling with each breath, my right gently smoothing back her hair. I kiss her, the softness of her cheek like silk on my dry, post-flight lips.      "We're here," I whisper, quiet so as not to wake her, "we've made it." She rolls over, throwing her arms about my shoulders; the smile she wore then, warmer and of more love than an

Away on the hilltop that surveys the shore, The sunlight shines down on the dress that she tore. For there stands my lady with tears in her eyes-- My ship soon is leaving for stormier skies. The daylight is fading, with promise of night. And I from below cannot fathom the height, The distance from hilltop to shadowy shore, The space of the years, of a lifetime or more. She's lovely in sorrow, but pain and despair Last only as long as the wind in her hair, For memory fades with the coming of frost. (There's no one as fair as the one who has lost.) O Captain! My Captain! There's wind in the sail, A flurry of hats torn away in the g