Offspring in the evening sky


I want to gather myself,

to walk with you,

gathering myself,

but in your arms.

Yet, delivered to this task

now finds me inverted

on blue sky evenings,

when I am killing time.

Of woodlands, give or take,

they replicate and in still moments,

they might shout,

not enough am I in this task.

For I would love to see

and hold the hands that now arrange,

with reverence,

their offerings.

We could share, touch, so much;

even if just,

that by your evenings’ light,

would I arrange myself, sacred gatherings too.