Too Much

Gratitude can overwhelm
as anything else;

nothing happier than Ice cream
but sticky to be covered in it from head to toe.
And hard to wash out of hair.

Sipping love, hopes and dreams through a straw,
rather than upending the bucket over our heads;
this is a reasonable idea:

Leaves enough (always more so always enough and then some) in the bucket
to save, to refill, to dive into, headlong.
Toes pointed, eyes closed, wind squeezing cheek to jawbone,
swallowed, immersed, in love.

In ice cream soup, on purpose.

-n&c-

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Up top o' the mountain is where we fly the rocket from, sometimes.