With Distance

I am sitting bolt upright

in my straight backed chair,

wooden and unyielding.

I am yanked outdoors

by the summer winds,

by the creaking and groaning

of old woods, the rushing rustling

of leaves on themselves. 

 

I think of you

any time I am outside,

I think of you

pretty much

all the time.

 

Sweeping poplar leaves

overlap to form complex shadows,

the full moon diffused

into pixelated patterns.

 

I wander through the

speckled and scattered

moonlight, with you

on my mind (of course) --

you are synonymous with

freedom and confidence,

with Mother Nature,

with the dirt and the smoke

that makes breathing

worth my while.

 

The spotlight moon

burns shadows into the

asphalt, and while your hands

are states away,

la Luna holds my heart,

fiercely protected,

until the fractured hours

of the morning.