I think of you first, almost before waking.
Outside the window, I watch the solid horizontal ridgeline,
Old and unmoving, juxtaposed against swaying vertical lines,
Myriad branches and leafless trees.
I wish to touch the sky between them.
I wish to touch you.
I wish you would touch me.
There are so many things in the way.
I don't know what they are.
I can't call them by name.
