Your hands are so well remembered, here. Your mouth

my prize, my craving, my hope.

The peace of you sits in my heart 

and croons for itself, light on wing, softly slipped into the nest of me.

Where carefully stockaded mouths open

individually, the need

a tiny noise, attractive to predators,

instead your song lies alongside the rounded edges of me 

protective, precious.

My hands as fledglings against your chest land and fly

while you move within me, please

stay in the canopy with me:

please crest with me here, in the heights.

I pray for the safety of your arms

and the sky together, 

for the lifting of shoulders and pinions

in the face of all winds.