James C. Baloian

I pack each reflection
balancing the horizon
as the invisible cold
warms slowly my face
from an endless field of poppies

I hide in the darkness
of your shadow
My arms reaching
into the distance of your sleep

Fingers walk along
the white rapids of sheets
surrounding the lazy freedom
of your body
I bend like paper
to ink this moment we are breathing

And in this moment
I find possibilities in the landscape
as we get older
like a farmer luminous at dawn’s light
knowing the waters in the furrows of his field

will last a lifetime