so many stories in the branches

on an evening soon from now
she will lay her head next to yours in the simple shape of questioning
you are maybe busy for the moment but she has practiced diligently
the steady hand of patience. She is still. A blanket of tall grass under an afternoon sun.
The stalks, they hardly move with her breathing.
When you are ready and done, there will be a stillness in this field she has lain.
in that quiet she will turn to you. the sheets are a rainstorm.
the blue of her eyes will ask you to tell her of south africa.
and you will. in the quiet of that field
you will open.
somewhere, there is a tree just starting to break soil.

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