touch can be remembered
like the wicked
taste of swiss chocolate
or the cloyingly sweet scent
of sugar cookies baking

but a single touch remembered
is what, makes me want to
clutch the thought
without going in reverse

skid for a few blocks giddy
fly over hay barns and finger
lakes, dive into iced over streams
run in mud puddles, keeping

gabrielle’s horn
at lunchtime,

your touching
an oak tree

in a sage green meadow
as we interlace in a spiral
dance–palms do know how
to touch in minstral song

copyright © Kate Lamberg all rights reserved