Birch tree's thousand little fingers wet with
Early May rain, mist kissed and still.

I know you wish I'd miss you more when
I'm here, but I'm a man of focus mastered.

For now I'll keep my eyes drinking from out
My north wall window,

This view.
These trees and humble hills,

Not even shaking from the force of
A full day's rain.

I don't miss.
Sometimes my hand reminds me of

The weight and warmth of yours in it,
And I lean back knowing you're just as

Mine as when we're touching.
I trust love.

I trust love, the way the birch trees
Trust the skies with their thirst,

The grounds with their hunger,
And my eyes to behold their majestic,

Confident
Beauty.