When you
look at me like
that,
as if I’ve
hung the paper heart moon
with
artistic hands,
a lavender
morning mists softly
against my
skin, each cell brightening,
stretching
toward a living,
growing new
day.
All I want
is to breathe,
to breathe
in this sky of moment, deeper,
to feel each
evolving hue as it rises
like milk
and sugared tea on my tongue;
to hum my birdsong
notes
back to you,
and your
arms
of encircling
sun.
©
2013 Jennifer Wagner
“Birds
sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever
sunlight remains to them?” -Rose Kennedy