Heaven is the sun setting over the Rocky Mountains in my rearview mirror.
She is in the passenger seat,
she is rich and warm and autumnal.
When I say “rich,” I do not mean that she is wealthy.
When I say “rich,” I am referring to the way her voice melts frost into dew on a blade of grass.
When I say “rich,” I am referring to the way she breathes in the smell of the wet cedar porch
as we walk down the stairs and into the rain.
When she looks at the stars, I look at their reflection in her eyes.
A coruscating cosmos; condensed,
I did not realize the hardness of my face until I felt the softness of her fingers against my cheek.
I pray to you in times of weakness
but she is the one who brings me strength.
you are my god
but she is my salvation.