we crawl from branch to branch, tiny coordinated limbs 

gross in the great, scheming abandon of the world.

I rub myself along the soft of the lavender:

a show for you, directionality, so that you can feel control.

somewhere along the sunflower stalks

I've lost you, your face in a yellow frame.

I think I am free but it's one moment, one leg over,

until I am at home again.

your dance, distinct among the rest, tells 

of your journey and weary desires:

still you chase among the blossoms.

still you gather, and make your honey.

you catch me splayed among the buds, wide open

and willing the sky to take a bride. 

you mistake my intention and I become

full of a need, a scent, a sap.