it is a quarter to sunrise
trees cradle the horizon like a last breath
the clouds, a dusting of pastels and the sun
soaks in every shade of pink I cannot name

the sky is not a fiery brilliance
it is a lullaby, a feather, a dance
a touch away
from spilling into the lakes below

and I, floating
chasing the winter fog as it pulls back
a tug of war with ancient mountains
fists of a thunderous god

before I lift my hands, a final surrender
the heavens crack open in a warm embrace.
from the depths of silence
a voice cuts through the air:

breathe me.
I will return to you lost stories
of quieter bliss and greater truths
than your heart could ever hold

and in this morning
I do not wish for a laugh or your lips
but for a home of my own
where the earth and sky kiss