the sandbanks of our heart~

blanket the green earth, sole only, pressed on your body as on a pathway of smooth pebbles
as you sleep dropping the leaves of your breaths onto my untaut skin
vistages of the fall sky tremble uncertainly through the river of me
though certain in that basin of our sleep where
from your neck rises the perfume of baking bread
does your heart lack for fuel?
do our fingers, enlaboured, find peace in those fields, under those skies?