“Your eyes”

The shades of sky
in the seasons
are not so numerous
as the shades of your eyes.

With dawn’s first glow
they opened,
extracting light
and drinking color,
singing,
with the play and splash
of the stream.
Hills, feathers, and branches
were the instruments
of their song,
and they went reading
the notes of the day,
reading its words,
(reading these words),
and casting their image
in the reflecting eyes
of another.
They continued,
sharing their illuminated
give and take,
until twilight released its rivers,
and your eyes,
like the tip of an alpine peak
caught the last sparks
of fleeting fire.

Through electric shadows
they carried their light,
until evening closed
and they opened anew,
stars,
in the night of your dreams.