i love you when
the petals let go of the dandelion
and flutter in a wind of doubt
i love you when
the blade cuts the lawn in ‘twain
we bleed serene green
and the scent of affection
lingers in the air
i love you when
the heat of day
skips rope toward a half moon
and we trip on the beams
happily falling into the stars of
shape-shifting voyeurs watching
elegantly
i love you when
and if
storms provoke us to windswept fate
as punishment for loving too much
we will gladly accede to the suffering
provided the yellow gale
splits the moon
with each of us as equal halves
of the rapture.
