I had to drive down the road
to find a place where I was in range
pull out
and park
just above the spot
where the trickling creek
gets deep
and full of water fowl
living in low-slung trees
along the banks

I thought we had a missed connection
when my cell phone
got voicemail
what could I say
to convey
in thirty seconds
this restless stirring
so instead
I said
that I was sending love
on Christmas
from the foothills

the Bohemian –
well, he and I,
we surprise me
and suddenly our timing
clicks in a tick
and we make contact
he calls back
while I can still receive
reception

his voice ripples through me
with all his rounded consonants
a few omitted prepositions
his happy laughter
and I remember why
I love him
it doesn’t matter what he’s saying
though “I miss you, Jess!”
is nice to hear

along the river
a Great Heron takes flight
on wings that seem too big
to balance
a body that looks too huge
for flying
but with majestic grace
it moves its weight
in a slow and steady swoop
above the water

the Bohemian recaps the progress of our garden
admits he’s done more planting
but still left some space for me
he fixed those falling towel bars in the bathroom
polished the kitchen counters
cleared some of those fronds out of the yard

outside the windows of my parked car
sandy hillsides slope softly
in winter sunlight
beyond these hills there is an ocean
and in the middle of that sea
is a man with a beautiful accent
puttering around my house
and growing vegetables

there’s a sensation
right about the center of my chest
warm and moving
like honey with a fizz
and it feels good
in this parked car
with his voice right at my ear
he can eat my popcorn
and help himself to my kitchen cupboards
I don’t care

I’m so very happy in these foothills
but now I know the number
the exact amount of days
until I come home