Love hunger

I was drawing up a question, my smell was magic, in the garden, asking the earth of you, like a predator.

I heard the first crow, then the second beckoned, me to the crow dance, I had black wing,

Becoming tree shape, gathering to the sky, the flaming sun, above, looking down, my sight mid-range, held by my philosophy, it took on the shape of a crow.

Even changed, even then, into its black heart, I danced between us: movement, and movement between us, a pocket of air, a soft claw, a feather which falls,

Your face in the trees, poetry, wings quickened the world flew open.

My gift of the crow as the question left me, of a sudden, and the door opened:

I’m the world finding you, and you’re a butterfly wandering, I follow to your obsidian cocoon,  and your dagger in my heart, is a dagger in yours too, and the door opened for me is now open for you.