Wearing the Weather

Baby, when we have a good
conversation it fills up
my chest with sky.
I’m not talking about
light and fluffy cloud talk
all blue skies with easy breeze,
I mean the kind that might
start out howling wind
at first maybe even sheets
of rain that follow hitting
the pavement so hard
we have to raise our voices
above their drops or lean
in close to whisper and be heard.
We are standing beneath
a shelter see, huddled close,
like waiting at the bus stop
or for our favorite breakfast joint
to open we are hungry, stomachs growling
places to go and the overcast gray
makes it hard to tell the time. Hurry.
Still I can taste when your breath is almost
the silvering sky that will break open
and when mine keeps us warm like cups
of tea. You take me in sips. We change
color. You bloom fuchsia and I blush purple.
We don’t see it coming and neither does
the sky when it tries to catch up.

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Filed under love, poetry

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