I gaze upon the pond scum
and see your lovely face.
The emptiness of space
reminds me of your wisdom.
I caress the sphagnum
and feel you in its place.
The tree stump I embrace
can dance like you, so lissome.
The gentle touches of a leech
and your clinging have a semblance.
I detect your very essence
in all the fish up on the beach.
Such are the dreams of a lovestruck biologist.
Be grateful I'm not a parasitologist.
* See Blog entry for May 26, 2010 -- for an explanation of the
poetry series, "Counting the Ways". Click below on the label: "love".