Dew Dripped Morning

All that dampness and recklessness
The honeyed heaviness of a body
laid down in the dew dipped grass.
We were wild & perfect,
little purple flowers in the great pastures of the universe.
Beauty is always brave.
Softly, we exclaimed our dearness for each other.
Never in my life have I felt so near
to the intricate root and stem of breaths,
As our soft words rose to waves of whisperers,
curling over one another, claiming each other
In the husky arms of the moment,
we laid together and experienced
the morning light clocking in to take over for the stars,
touched by the spongy golden light,
in all its kind holiness, redemptive and palpable,
It was impossible not feel how loved we were
not just by each other, but by the light
filling the face of every blade of grass, flower, and garden.
It was at that moment, it was ever so clear
that all of this, all of us, everything light touched,
was loved so clear, all of it…
This massive, imperfect idea
that one collective breath can be so different
and loved all the same