a vow beneath the sky

dear you,

the sky wants you to taste, not devour
that defiant heat of the sun
spilled soft on hedgerows, slow to come

somewhere past the cricket’s drone,
desire wakes without pleading
a voice that splits fields like ripened bone:
run to me, run until you feel your lungs bleeding

a vow itself the sun can’t soothe,
in nettled touch and blistered feet,
yearning winds through every leaf
light drips from windowsills, slow and thin,
touching collarbones and paling skin

above, the sky offers just enough to make you stay
and you, too, learn to want like that:
a little closer, then look away.

yours, kate

(artwork: primavera by sandro botticelli)