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This morning early

so silent and slow

so intimately, most gently

your face moved so close

so close to mine

I felt your very out-breath on my skin

I sensed it entering my nose, my very pores

So what else could I've done

oh watering eye

then to most gently too: breathe-you-in

After the silent tears had dried to salt

I was sure that it is time and a good day

to plant the turnips and the chicory

to seed green-cover and winter-spinach

And that it sure is a good day

to harvest a heap of cucumber and tomatoes

and to mix a delicious salad for everyone close

The longing for compliments is over