The old rocky mountains
choose to shimmer,
the peaking suns of
my new morning.

Steaming black coffee
sits in his favourite
orange tin mug
always without handle.

On the edges of the
rich green damp tent
I twist apart a newspaper
pulling it to wooden flames.

I breath so deeply in
pulling down to my core.
That I burst out fully
into raw audible sighs.

Reaching parts of me
I’ve forgotten I own.
Peace is not this moment
but this feeling.

The sky today is higher
widening out into wide array.
My love today is stronger,
and this distance is healing.