when the wind whispers to a flower child

how i envy the plants. the quiet nature of things, and the hand which pulls at mine. there is a space for you which i hold close behind my eyes. you are always there, and i can always see your smile.
sometimes the grit of the universe gets in my eye, and i must blink hard to keep from crashing into something. but at least the weather reminds me of you; ever in motion, changing and quiet. this morning the clouds caressed the mountains and the flagpoles cheered in polyrhythmic syncopation.

i lie flat on my back, in a field behind my house. green and blue vignetting my vision. i wish you were here.