last night
the sky burned ruby
despite the call for rain
I knew the sun would come
and you for me
the fields would burn
a golden ache
as blossoms bent their heads
time would stall –
a moment of reprieve

a sigh became
my fervent prayer
as breath escaped to line
how every star was named
an ease that comes
with knowing
where the storms are found
as words I spill to you
are mine again

. . .