In the Real Garden

Art by Christian Schloe

To the near-empty sound of the young morning,

Dyed only with the sensuous sway of

Two trees that dance together

Though separately,

Rinsing their leaves in

The blushing haze of the ever

Unfathomable new day’s emergence

From the embers of yesterday’s vastness,

To this,

To it,

To you,

Near-empty sound:

hold steady.

i feel you.

within your timid thrum i enter,

sensing everything.

and you.

and your growth as the dew dallies.

and me.

and my body laid down beside yours.

and us.

and the roaring din

of our sternums as we breathe.