Love didn’t rush through us like
a drenching storm riding the jet stream.
It hinted its arrival on a fresh, ordinary day –
a day of no cognizance of weather or love,
when a Chevy was for cruising and schmoozing
and catching the latest flick at the drive-in.

Love drizzled lightly into awareness
sharing burgers at the soda shop,
jitterbugging at the school hop,
and most especially while slow dancing,
on long walks to the lookout and furtive
explorations of adult ardor.

Soon love had saturated our singularities,
imperceptibly melting us into a couple.
Now our bodies and faces are weathered,
but not withered – for us there is no drought.
We still know something of that boy, that girl.
They glow with warmth all around us –

deepen our days, brighten our nights

Deborah Silverman is a Crockett poet. The above poem won third place in the Benicia Love Poetry Contest.

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