Benediction

Then there are the days
we chase ourselves into pine groves,

carrying plastic water bottles and tent stakes.

We build a fire and collect the sky,
with curled fingers pulling twigs and stars
into the safety of our kinship.

This is our adoration:
tinder, youth, morning

will come.

If we go back,
they will question.
If we stay,
they’ll come looking.

When we do,

forget speech.
Persist like dew and berry.
Return with spring and
kneel towards morning.

We are sunrise, frost
and soon gone.

I am humbled

by memory.