A Love Poem for Everyone (Sestina)

As the raindrops fell between us
like sand grains in an hourglass' waist
when it catches and stops, just right,
I thought I saw the first light
ever burned from the sun
that laid all the gears in motion.

Birds flocked in a commotion
like smoke above us,
our eyes turning on the sun,
our clothes hanging from our waists
like drapes. I felt the birds' breath lightly
stir the branches on my right.

When the black cloud was right
over our heads, their rolling motion
blocking the sun's light,
I whispered: it has chosen us.
Nothing is wasted
under the machine of our sun.

If forever rose with tomorrow's sun,
I would have no right
to tie down my waist
or dig my heels against the motion.
But it would be too soon for us.
I would be Dylan and rage against the dying of the light.

Time is too firm when I've lightly
walked and hardly touched the sun
on my skin and rain falling between us,
It isn't right.
We cannot stall its motion,
but I am buried, buried to the waist

in lists. Things to do. I say: grab my waist.
We are losing daylight.
We are drowning in commotion.
With our breath rising to the sun,
I saw the birds fly on my right.
I saw the earth turn for us.

Raindrops fell between us as you cupped my waist.
You held my hand when the light
of the sun fell for the first time through the oldest, blackest motion.