you are sunlight, filtered golden

through a gauze of clouds

unhurried, the tension

of a bowstring, a rock in a stream

you are warmth on my face and soft rock on the radio

a puzzle, a softball-sized knot to unravel,

a coarse, steadfast

intricate design

you are not my breath, but the warmth

of the air I breathe.

you are a gated path, the joy of the journey,

a destination, not mine

I ache for you but

do not pine.