Southbound on 61—sun rising
over pastures I’ve passed
a thousand times with indifference.
This morning I notice with delight.
I still taste the dew of your kiss
as I watch birds burst from thickets
as I hum past haystacks golden with dawn.
I can’t track the steam lifting
from farm ponds. I can’t name
the sky’s peach-pink hue. I can’t
map the secret river of your hands.
I can say: this love
unfolds effortless and new
like apple orchard blossoms
opening on the horizon.