this literature

I love how apt your allusions are.
You pluck and re-present to me
the choicest bloom or weed or stick
in all our garden's memory, from where
it grows in scattered nooks
and grassy hilltop overlooks,
and ocean cliffside succulents
so thick with what you mean to me,
and taking it, I see and know
it means as much to you,
with all immediacy,
afloat aglow

in playful drift of what we know.