Windblown
The mountains, the woods . . .
I hear the running water – not trickling, not rushing
Glorifying you as it flows and jumps.
The chill. The quiet.
The icy ground, so much like my heart, promises to renew again in the Spring.
But for now it sits. Glistening in the sun, solid under my feet. Seeded and sown onto this Earth.
I need a minute to catch my breath.
Gently pulling you in.
Fill me.
Thaw me.
I hear loves song coming off the mountains.
Calling and Giving simultaneously.
Glistening.
Beckoning.
Searching and Knowing.
I am not sure of the way you’ve spotted the land. You are not just a piece of me I can’t seem to reconcile.
A quick glance across these hills and there you are. Walking these trees, speaking the language of the river.
Who knew I’d find you here.
Appear before my eyes
Lover of my life.
I’ll let you have it.
Govern it.
Hold it.
My blood and bones made by you – examples of your fingerprint.
Locked and unlocked by you.
Strong and weak with you.
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