“You and I Are Walking”
We have walked, my legs tracing yours,
to a cornfield and back.
Tectonics stir beneath my skin and I’m shaking
when you pull hairs out from your scalp—
I tell you, “I’m glad we couldn’t decide,”
and you whisper to the Photuris, “Me too.”
I believe that place was a sacred one
where time did not elapse, clouds did not pass,
and the stars held the sky together
like nails in a roof.
In a different time and space,
we held hands through the woods.
Our cellphones alight like beacons—
we watch stars leap from the heavens as bugs glimmer in the mist.
National Geographic, Photograph by Steve Irvine
