It was here one night among white blossoms that we lay and were touched while the rest of the world snored in their small beds.
We breathed frost words on branches, breathing deeply in the deep woods with no earthly destination, hidden behind the pulse of dawn throbbing upon a trigger’s touch.
You were delicate incense I lit alone. In silence my fingers found the sweep of stars on bare skin, house-warmth murmur like gold when you breathed.
You were a bird whose only cry came in color in the company of starlight that whistled up the violets on a garden full wilderness of new-day light, the yellow flowering into streaming pinks and fleshed with rose petals when I came with you.