At once careful and careless,
in love but yet heartless,
you pick at bones like
a carrion crow and make
war with the desert sands,
saying that if you could you
would make it snow forever,
if only to taunt me,
for you know how I love the sun.

Meanwhile as you waged war
I made peace with the overcast,
both within and without,
and begged be taken up in buoyant arms
and tossed like flotsam into the sea.
I advised you then to rest
your tumultuous heart
and drift a while on the tide with me.

And here betwixt sky and earth
we meet our end, where the eye
of the storm makes us calm.
The act of ascension and descending
at once rips us apart
and we burst like fireworks,
beautiful for an ephemeral second
and then gone.

Never to be lamented by any
passers-by, to make our own
graves upon the wind.