Differences in Hearts

When I was young I had a strong heart and the affections
it pumped were thick sheets of rain
or hail driven at sloped angles across the sky;
like clouds all clustered together so that
a few square miles are a hurricane-on-land as pounds
of ice are flying with a crushing determinism
down in the valley.

Then it was all tears and cries and wails and rage,
or a cosmic experiment in suffering,
or an endurance test for the human, my very own, soul.

Now my heart is full grown and hungry,
unbounded into itself and what my soul demands,
answering with quiet, fireside words
that do not inflame
but smolder and smile and still the embers
into a fine orange and pink
to last us until the morning comes.

The difference, I think, is love.

-Saturday, December Thirtieth, 2006