longing – Words and Feathers

untitled (20171016)

i want to put my hands
in your hair

you are like filament
glowing in an
incandescent bulb
hard to look at
until you hear
that tinkling snap
and then darkness

and i wished i had risked
the blindness of looking
rather than the blindness
of looking away
or extinction

a trickle
few drops left
and not enough to quench
a normal thirst
yet a flood for mine
when i have given up
the need for water

the wind moves
in this grove
rustling the tall grass
the hollow grass

they strike each other
played like instruments
knocking
knocking

dappled light
filters through green
and yellow
yellow and green

it is easy to forget
the blue of the sky
the cold sunlight
the cold sun