A crystal stream becomes a river

The way I wish I would touch myself

Is as a crystal stream trickling its way towards the edge of a mountain ridge

Pivoting itself around stones and tree branches reflecting the orange leaves of autumn across its surface

Rolling over and cascading into a gorgeous waterfall painting rainbows crashing into the earth

With its very own dewdrops and dispersing mists.

The way I wish you would touch me

Is as a blue jay discovering a fork in the branches of a stretching oak tree

Collecting colorful threads and pine needles and weaving them between its arms

Chirping your little hymns into the wind whistling between broad and golden leaves

Knitting together home out of nothing but what sprouts and gently flutters down around you.

The way I wish we would touch each other

Is as the valley floor rises up to meet with the sinking slope of the mountain face

Trading pine trees for dust collecting Joshua trees

Trading prickly pear blossoms for wood encased pine nuts—

It’s as a trickling crystal stream from mountain peaks

Joins with a river solid blue in the valley down below

And they with currents twined around one another

Continue on to join a lake—

To be in you, to be in me

Should be to take and lead each other towards a greater destiny.