“I can see you now, you know. Eyes turned toward the north, watching clouds build like dove-colored pillows across the horizon, your hands in your pockets. You have a half-smile that dimples one cheek and, from the porch, I can hear the way your breathing settles into your chest as you study the trees swaying under the rough touch of a summer storm.
I know you exist. Somewhere out there, you are quick-fury and farm-muscle and gentle eyes. And I know you see me, too. When you close your eyes, you feel my hands sliding around your ribs right before the thunder starts. And maybe you think my voice sounds like bourbon over ice or the whisper of cornstalks in the fall.
We’re both awake to the wind-beat of hope. And one of these days, a moment will blink into the next, and hope will settle in like a much needed rain.”
©️ Pearl Bayou