It is strange when my mornings aren't warmed
by the smell like costa rican coffee
and one more quick spoon
before we fully surrender our nights
to our day.
The wordless peace
of fingers and legs
binding us together. . .
anchoring our bodies
safely to the earth,
our branches, leaves
spiraling into a jade tapestries
clouds spilling through the fibers. . .
as our minds float beyond floors
and roofs,
past the bravest bird,
the lighest spiderling
sailing on a rainbow thread. . .
past satellite eyes
into the fabric of the great dreaming. . .
that is the secret of dark matter
the hidden ingredient of the universe my love. . .
far below,
we let free happy little sighs,
into the softness of each other's necks. . .
