running

I am lifting to the sky
and my feet hardly touch the ground because
my eyes are reaching so strenuously to that cumulus white
the contrast of infinity and cotton so gentle and so inviting
and the leaves are trembling with the same desire

The oxygen so unbreathed except by that one doe
who daintily stepped across my path
good luck in the sunlight which is drenching me from behind
and swirling around the summer wildflowers
bluebell and northern bedstraw and strawberry blight and yarrow
I rehearse the names and my feet barely touch the sand the roots are clasping
prayerfully

And the sky is so musical in its colour and so
solemn in its gravity
and so caressing of my hair which it touches invisible as love
and my feet are touching the ground with its pursed lips
concentrating on holding all of us steady
against the wildflower sky where the clouds are joyfully
ecstatically
dancing their lovely slow dances with their blue blue lover
And the invisible wind is running its fingers through their hair
and then blessing my hair
softly
like a child’s good night prayer