treeing between them was their love

don’t you know how the flowers dance in their sleep,
in long worship with the winds of the night,
and how their scents are carried through time—
I sing the song of their reunion with the earth,
bear the weight of their breath in my breast.
there is a way, to begin the day with fullest trust,
to take the beautiful as the progression,
as the flying not the falling, not the instance
but the pattern, with the warmth of oceans crashing
into oceans, streaming into streams of thought,
lines and longings ’round the globe; turns
of yearning hearts pull the years into a second.
so is it not endless, the sway of trees and fields,
or do they fight the other for air space and time,
riding the airwaves of worlds, from atoms to ants to eyes.

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