(if you, O if you, if you O were here),
I wouldn’t abridge this season by an hour.
I taste the morning light with such desire
as I will (say I will) take from the flower
of you, touch as I will learn your entire
country, these tender hills seen from a tower.
Marilyn Hacker, from “March Wind,” Love, Death, and the Changing of the Seasons
(via lifeinpoetry)