skies may be blue;yes
(when gone are hail and sleet and snow)
but bluer than my darling’s eyes,
spring skies are no
hearts may be true;yes
(by night or day in joy or woe)
but truer than your lover’s is,
hearts do not grow
nows may be new;yes
(as new as april’s first hello)
but new as this our thousandth kiss,
no now is so
(for those of you new to Cumming’s writing, there are no typos. only the way he intended it to look and flow.)
It's Only Natural. 