The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Lover Hands

In silence not alone
a still pool of glassy water
is as hard as a pane
for a mirror doesn't give.

Until a leaf falls and
ripples with slightest
touch and tranquil lays.

Dim brown branches
reflect like fissures on
a rock unmoved
drawn across and over.

Then an acorn drops
with jubilation
amidst the wave-dance.

Though slight breath
may dapple and soften
on the fronds the glare
of sunlight.

It is the caress
of shadow fingers
that foretell the water song.

Let the water fall
over us and under
Let the sun spin
broken upon the shores
For your hands
burst the dam and
waken the rush within me.
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©2009 Mark Daniel Milbocker  All rights reserved.