It is surface tension that lifts my bones from sinking,
your gentle fingertips pressing up against my spine
quietly, unobtrusively holding.
I am sunset delicate
but the wind has carried me here and has not broken me.
On its currents I have traveled very far and seen much.
I have floated over the treetops and seen mountains
that cut ripples into the clouds. Children have been born
and wars fought as I drifted above,
but my red wings have drained of their chlorophyll
and I am weary now, fallen to earth to rest
and begin again.
You caught me, stretching cobalt blankets beneath
my vibrant crumbling edges,
and here I lie sleeping against you in your still beauty.
Maybe someday I will drift to shore.
But I think I would rather
let myself sink into you to nestle at the sandy bottom.
Contentedness lives there,
and I can hear your heartbeat in the water.