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I Love Women. . .

 

I love women who write letters in cursive

I love women who wash their aluminum foil

I love women who plant spoiled tomatoes and sprouting potatoes

who darn socks

and collect rocks

I love women who write lists

and make gift tags out of cards

I love women who use their soda can topper to hang art

and repurpose cereal boxes

mailing articles and comics to loved ones

I love women who keep gratitude journals, jars, trees

and plant flowers simply for the sake of beauty

I love women who gather herbs

make potpourri

I love women who visit and decorate their loved ones gravesites

who take pictures and attempt scrapbooks

Women who journal about their babies, their pregnancies, their college romances

I love women who save the letters their grandparents wrote

who insist you have seconds or have offended their ability to cook

I love women that hang their clothes out to dry

who sanctify their homes by cherishing all those who live within its walls

I love women who drink and swear and laugh all their makeup off

and yet still have a glimmer of lust at the young boy loading their groceries

Women who ask why certain designs were chosen when looking at a tattoo

I love women who savor beauty even when it has passed over them

I love women who feed birds

and read voraciously; having new ideas to discuss with younger generations

I love women who hold traditions and celebrations for their family

and plan their lives to include others

I love women who run cottage industries

trying to dance in both worlds, accepting neither will be newsworthy

I love women who cut their shampoo bottles to get the very last drop

Who save all their money and then splurge on a trip around the world

I love women who send birthday cards.

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II

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The way I love men who use their children’s baby jars to organize their screws

who paint their own fences

wash their own cars and change their own oil

and barbeque taking time to let the doggie have a small taste

                                                                                            or any children near by

I love men who wake up early

I love men who whistle

and men with strong hands

Capable of bringing flowers, and changing diapers

I love men who cry when their trees are pruned too drastically

I love men who give nicknames

and dance and flirt when they’ve had one too many

I love men who lead a lady across the dance floor without a trace of regret

I love men who admit they’ve made mistakes

and have the capacity to laugh uproariously

I love men with dimpled chins and boyish charms

who still want to catch lizards and frogs and put them in their pockets

I love men who work all their lives to make sure their families don’t have to

I love men who tend fires

who fix things rather than throw them out and buy another

I love men who value a home-cooked meal and a warm clean bed

falling in love with their wives all over again through their children and grandkids

I love men who talk to their animals

and the confidence in a man’s walk and the twinkle in his eye

                                                                                      when he knows he is right

I love the agony with which a man gives away his daughter

and the triumph in the way he holds his first grandchild

I love the way men brush their fingers against a woman’s hair in appreciation.

 

III

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The way I love partners that lean into one another

waiting patiently for a degree to be attained, a child to be adopted

making pancakes at midnight for a hungry lover

I love partners who take pride in their home together

loving their pets, showering them with tenderness

outlasting many of their traditional friends’ marriages with perseverance

partners who refuse to define love as monogamous, nor monotonous

seeing one another to the very end of this journey.

 

IV

 

The way I love people who take time to cherish this life

so fleeting so fragile and to leave kindness in its wake

who dig in for the next round

preparing to live a little longer than hoped for

And to leave something of substance behind.