Skysong

 Skysong

28 February 2023

He awakens me, for the trillionth time, 

With a lingering kiss,

And, for the trillionth time, I blush, 

Warmth starting in the utter east,

Then radiating up and out.

When he kisses me goodnight,

With one last blush-inducing caress,

I grow cold and lonesome,

Especially in winter

When sharp stars prick the night,

Shrill reminders of what I no longer have.

Summers are better:

He's not gone so long,

And I stow some of his warmth away

Packed in the humidity of the night,

And even the stars get soft around the edges,

Their voices deep and mellow

Under layers of cricket-and-frog-song.

But every single morning, oh! 

His lips are hungry, and so am I,

And he flames up and fills me, 

Warming me from east to west,

Certain as the dawn, of course.

And the wonder is not

That this is the trillionth time

Or even that he's never missed a day,

But that he is 

right here,

right now,

with me.