Waiting

Sunlight tides, bathes itself in the downturn 

of my eye. Slow the waking candle how 

theater lights go down–an expectant 

hesitation. Graciously, the dress falls 

to cover the legs. Whipped dream of heat 

bashfully melting marshmallow–soft, damp, 

all over the face and sticky hands. A hint 

off of being sweet, how things taste after 

swimming in the ocean. A worry settles 

deep in the stomach. The water does not 

move, and the shore ceases longing for it.

Each moment breathes into the next–a 

circle of air and ocean foam and sweet pea, 

a scent someone I once loved hated. 

Geese, notorious chasers of sun, settle 

where warmth is baked into the earth. Look, 

right after dawn, the sun rises. The gaggle 

flies off, disturbs the clouds in their scurry. 

I gaze up and watch.