You hold my left hand across the pink weeds, I run my right hand through each one in the breeze, the grass brushing across my knees. In all of the vast I see, you are too much for me.

I follow you anyway through each season to see your smile in the summer. Before the sunlight blinds me and you leave for the South. Following you, you look back at me, leading me between greens, yellow and brown plateaus, where the blues meet. Your fingers wrap gently around my wrist, your palm holding my palm and fingers in place. Your musk drifting, I breathe you in with air touching our bare limbs.

I follow you,
You look back again.