Cut through this clockwise fog
I'm finding new substance in detail and waking up
Embodied in reflective puddles and impulsive acts of clarity

Why go home?

Let go
Dissolve into blossom
I am the
Beauty in the trees

Kind blanket skies
Tear through my
Willing flesh and bone to dust

In the wind
In your skin
Cloudless in melon-tinged sunsets
And locked at the wrists