Fresh peach juice stains our lips,
mud smears across our well-worn shoes
as we sit amidst the high grass
marking an intersection
of forest and farmland.
Having spent the peak hours of sunlight
chasing the trail of an ice age
I look now at your skin, tanning before my eyes,
the scruff on your face,
the way your hair embraces your earlobes,
the way your hands toss your peach pit deep into the grass
we sit among as if hiding from the world
and I feel a familiar smile crawl across my face.
out here, against the green and blue world,
under the bright sunlight
this peaceful, strong-hearted man
that I fall in love with the more you
tiptoe towards a swamp’s edge to find
the frog chorus,
and reach out to cradle my hand in yours
as we fall in step,
silent in the maze of trees.
Licking peach from your lips,
burying my hands in your hair,
my knees pressed firmly into the earth,
here is where I feel at home.