A Poem for MKK

There is a bridge that runs between us
weaving its way through the incessant rains of the overnight
and I know that you too are awake,
the soles of my feet thrumming with you

I can feel your eyes, jarred open by questions,
your restless legs seeking refuge
the cool sheets holding you,
however imperfectly

And this love between us?
That tenuous string stretching across rough pavement?
It is, somehow, enough for me
--despite everything, 
despite all the endless downpours of unknowing that seep into the
groundswell.

Still, the cardinal sings,
wings wet with the residue of a dozen
overnight storms

Still, the robin burbles,
pecking small holes in its nest so that its flightless young won't drown

And still the lowly grasses stretch their swollen blades to a morning
they know is just around the corner.

We are baptized--each of us--in these spring storms,
made new again somehow.