while a collection of dancing turns
in field clearings. Alabaster breath,
leaves pull west and fill.
A look, melic. Morning billowing like sea smoke,
the universe reflected in your bearing. I see
who I will become by the way you favor
talking with your eyes. By the heaving of bark and twig.
We tear hue over electric strain, depth dripping
silver, while I cradle my spirit, among other things,
And rain, clinking as it blues across