The Golden Morning
As we wake amid the grain
the godly glow of morning
softly seeps beneath our skin
Glints of shimmering gold
spark across many a drop of dew
You lie with me
a bed, out of my chest, you've made
I keep your body against my own
As we gaze in the golden morning,
a stream trickles in the distance
smoothly slipping through the rocks and gravel -
the twittering of tiny birds
who are also bathed in streams
of the sun,
streams that filter through the treetops
and rest, in patches,
upon rugged bark
and dainty feathers
As I turn your hair between my fingertips,
a cool breath of wind whistles around
and through us
We are at peace
in a place of purity
A field made in Heaven's wake;
a sanctuary for the angels.