I long for the quiet
woodlands
the hugging tight
of your arms in
our tent breathing the wind
and the downpour pouring down;
each drop heard,
only dots,
encoded, nonsense
from a much higher place
and I feel the pressure rising
all around us and I listen to the stream
cutting deeper and closer
and you sleep—cry a message:
something important about love,
about love
before sunrise.
Very beautiful!
Thank you, a lost poem from last summer, and it seems so long ago, have a great weekend over there. Best wishes Lee