New Bucolics

Filling in each other’s wrinkles

with a dropper full of peptides

I’m a plant      You need to water me

I held your feet to the fire

and woke from nightmares

to a pink sky    Early morning

I cloister in your cavity

The space between your ribs

You comfort and calm me

The clink of dripping water

A landscape     Like Iceland

Something primordial

The sound flowers make

Their tiny roots amplified