the dew hewed to skin is only a reminder of sentience, striking, sobering
but what I’d give to trade it for canopying the puddled pavement
and float veiled between hooded darkness, smiling to greet your headlights
and settle a gentle unease in your gut, watching your eye return to me despite itself
a supporting act to the moody spectacle of saffron and Mariana blue
a promise whispered by rainfall bid adieu
I would strain to cloak Highland castle ruins nestled between scots pine soldiers
splurge to billow between spindly fingers that obscure weepy memory still soaking decayed limestone, and its gravesite earth
and I’d rush my dew to hover atop sprawling wildflower, just after the sun endows the soil and flesh with honey radiance
enrapturing the busybodies in their drive-by, my trademark disquietude following sleepy eyes in the rearview
and when I assume the role as your earthbound cloud, I promise not to hide any vengeful wraiths behind my shroud
save, you need those ghosts to shed your old skin
I’ll serve to design and conquer, however my mist need mold the earth or mind