Juliet and Love

Juliet watches the wind wave the grass.

Was it the pulse of the waves,
the roots that anchored the waves, or was it
the wind itself moving invisibly in waves
that transfixed her?

This, she sighs, was getting
tedious. But she let the thought simmer
while she waited round
for things to make sense.

Maybe random traces
were enough to suggest the stirring of plot,
like a movie marquee with its
lights out here and there.

This sullen mood led inevitably
to the subject of love.
People, she noticed, let things blow along
until love died down flat,
and then there they were,
marooned again.

Juliet watches the grass bow and rise.
Its helpless grace. Its charming sway.

First published in Fourteen Hills, December 2001

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