#1
Your mail last week has not yet arrived,
But I have already wallowed in the words
Only my lips, your tongue can enunciate.
I have heard them from the loud murmurs
Of the leaves, of the grasses that embrace
The sweetest doting of the breezy summer.
I have seen them in the bosoms of red tulips,
In the excitement of bees and hummingbirds
That make waiting bearable without despair.
My hands have not yet graced your last mail,
But I have already felt the hug of your words
On my pillow, on the crumples of my blanket.