Last night we drove to the southernmost tip of the state, and in the cold, dark night, bright with stars, we watched two friends vow their love in the most poignant terms I have ever heard: two poets who found the perfect words over and over again.
We rang in the new year, huddled in corners discussing love, faith, commitment, and family in a beautiful house surrounded by delicious food. A fortuitous start.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
I love you as the plant that never blooms
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;