I dream of long reeds
by cool ponds, turtles swimming
in the first whisper of sunlight

I say, “this is earth.” You laugh,
“No, this is heaven.” We both laugh.

The rock in the middle of the pond
is sunbleached and begging the turtles
to come and rest and wait for the warmth
to save them.

I say, “this is heaven.” You sigh,
“No, this is Earth.” We both sigh.

The tadpole kisses the surface
where the water was glassy
now ring by ring, the moment
drifts toward some other shore
we see but do not know.

I say, “What is this?” You say,
“I do not know.”

And we are happy. God,
we are happy.