tilting Earth
moves,
inexorable,
grinding slowly
in her rhythmic journey
around the Sun.
shadows stretch
slanted, low and long,
calligraphy,
inscribed of Autumn’s hand.
a feather’s shaft
pierces the ground
and there stands,
a sundial,
marking hours of
passion in
sliding daylight.
in the new darkness
of morning
we sleep.
I am drawn,
a rare earth magnet,
to fully stretch
against the length
of your body,
skin along skin,
foot atop yours.
I wish I could wrap
our shoulders,
a soft chrysalis,
late into the day.
we dream that we sleep
in darkened caverns
where bears rest.
beneath our
pulsing lids move
trails, rivers, rills,
unbroken seas of trees.
the wild places
whisper against our
sleeping ears.
they call us forth
saying
warm your spine
flat
upon the rock chest of
earth before
she enters
the cold slumber.