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 dawn came to us.