Covid Baby

I have seen the seaglass edge of a dew drop fall from a petal and disappear into the grass jungle

I've waited for the first hiss of rain

kicking up dust

fast off the pavement

filling the air with the smell of damp ocean rocks

I've rolled my body, such as it is, in the arms of algae lakes

My hands grasping fistfuls of sand

It is glass and fossils under my fingernails

Here, we are so close to being eachother, the earth and I and you

My eyes are wide open, but there are only pinpoints of light piercing the waves

Peace feels blue-green, it doesn't need big words, or any words at all

Some mornings when the sky blushes at the moon's overture, and we are turned, turned, turned to face the day, I drink in the orange, the coral, the blaze

Possibility looks like warm colours

I notice, attend, lean into the small moments, the minutia

And here I see myself, polychrome

But you, you are a new spectrum

You are an explosion of latitude, fascination, expectation

Your eyes will travel millimeters and miles, drinking the crisp leaf of a cabbage in my garden, the sooty borders of hopscotch, a glass of milk

You will build and breathe and sing your own palette, my precious, pure hope

You are the dawn and the dew

And all moments between

Only you can see your world

And only I can see you this way