(i see them all)

but, don’t be still!
come closer with your golden word –
the one around your ankle, bright.
i want to speak it a hundred-fold.
i want to see it, touch it, climb it
to the
top
or
bottom –
wherever it leads.

sprint after me

after i reach the canopy,
i want to burn my fingertips
on the surface of the earth
and walk forever inside the sun.

then,
in the sultry afternoon,
pluck the wildest rose
and press it between our hands –
the ones that grab each other
in love’s abandon,
in inexhaustible grace.

they are never still.

in the field, friend,
hold my hand.
in the clouds – see it, too.
and in the sky we’ll run –
tripped and falling and never alone.

i will never catch you.

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