Like the blue hues of a summer sky
Stretched above the trees.
When the warmth of the evening
Rests heavy on the skin,
There are just some things that
Cut valleys through the heart in their absence.

Yes, only when the cold
Seeps in across a whitening October sky
And the red-winged blackbirds cease to fly
Do I sit with the spaces
Where they used to sing
And feel the emptiness that comes
With the absence of wings
Somewhere inside the pieces of me
That can only ascend

When you are here.

See, I can never let go
Because then the mountains disappear
From the horizon.

I need to feel them rising against the pale
Brightening of the morning.
Every time, it brings me hope and somewhere firm to
Lay my hands.

Hold me here.

In your presence, I can stand
Without shaking
And absence is silence and the aching of a
Winter sky without wings.