winter

I sit upon your wooden bones
And breathe you, sigh for sigh
Feed the only heat (like hunger)
That made it through the night

spring

You climb the branches of my tree
And grapple at my budding hips
You rest below my nest of hair
To catch your breath between my lips

fallen

You overturn my inner earth
Where saplings of these stories grow
Their roots exposed to face the sun
Inside the soil of my soil