Dawning Creations

It feels real.
The roof tiles warm underneath me,
left scorching under the sitting afternoon sun.
The oak tree branches sweeping out,
almost making contact.

This vantage point is so intimate,
being closer to the rooftops,
to the stretching branches.
I’m at your level at long last.

It feels real,
like I could feel your breath on my neck,
your boughs endlessly reaching for the sun.

I’m reaching too,
towards Zenith, to all of you.
The wind will tug at us, even up here.
We will reach ceaselessly,
yearning for the sun.