I miss you less in thunder than its absence
in the way peonies bend when afterwards
the summer rain is left in leaves,in grass.
It’s hard to carry memories, acceptance
silenced in this aftermath of fireworks,
when slugs grow fat in what’s left morassed.
It’s different when love’s expressed in tense
less present, when the curtain’s lacework
blend with milkweed skies, I sense what was.
Danae by Gustav Klimt
For Poetics Bloomings summer rain.
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Your poems today almost knocked me out of the car. (We’re driving home from vacation.)
I hope you were not behind the wheel… 🙂
No, I was riding. 🙂
That little detail about the peonies bending–to me those are the things that make poetry so wonderful.
“It’s different when love’s expressed in tense
less present” – wonderful!
Lyrical and quite lovely – it reads like an entranced contemplation or musing … in solitude.