How is it that today
on the highway home
I looked up to see the
tangerines and deep blush
of sunset light the undersides of
the flying white birds
and my thoughts landed
light as light on birds
light as birds on the breeze
on you?
The birds have nothing to do with you.
The highway has nothing to do with you.
You have never seen this life I live
and it is a world away from the world we had.
This craziness happens anyway.
Once the sun set and I stood behind you
your long dark hair blown into my face
and my hands on your stomach.
Wrapped around you from behind
I watched over your shoulder
as the salt air lifted the sand
and lifted your hair
and lifted the light to the white throats of birds
who kept flying and flying
as if they could get to
the heart of it, all that gold
just waiting to be claimed.
