Measuring the Distance

Unroll a tape measure, stretch it
across the fabric of a day, a year.
Record the reach of the wind
or the height of corn stalks
greening in an abandoned field.

If your tape be infinite, you will
never see the end of it; if finite,
you will run out of numbers,
and clock hands will cease
their commentary.

Raise your two hands before you,
palms facing, and feel the tension
between them as you expand and
compress the invisible accordion
of your days.

Then try to measure love—love
that can leap any distance to fuse
your atoms with those of your
beloved until you resonate together,
harmonics pure as a tuning fork.