I long for
the sanctuary of sleep,
my palm, relaxed,
upon your heart
head nestled
into the crook
of your kindness,
slow strokes of tender
shelter from
the storms within
thunder quelled into gentle
as the stars fill my bones
leading me into
forests of sweet, dark
replenishment
scent of pine
and loamy moss
over my body,
forming a green –quilted
blanket of tiny-budded love
my fingers planted deep
into the cooling soil,
sprouts unfurling
crickets in night chant
fireflies a-whirl
and the bond
in our
veins, delicate fronds
intertwined yet
giving space
to breathe,
simply breathing
lungs expanding
in the cracked
wood tranquil
of mountain air
hushed rush
For now,
through panes of glass
the moon
casts a watchful eye
caressing my
sadness with
her woven strobes
of
light