I think of you on warm summer evenings
when our slowly setting sun coats
dappled oaks in more shades than I can count,
and every leaf is framed in greengold.

I think of you as sleepy wind
lingers in my hair,
strands dancing on a moment,
before laying to rest by a collarbone peak.

I think of you when the warmth settles on my skin
so easily that I see myself
spill out into the dusky air,  
finally weightless.

I think of you.