i notice that while you read, your feet
move slowly, curl and uncurl, and i imagine
branches shifting in wind.
while i dress for the day you lie naked
on my bed, smiling at me;
you have never asked me to do a thing.
i breathe, you look at the trees, find me
a seed pod, tell me their species.
even as you measure their trunks, your arms
embrace with tape, in the motion of a hug.
the motion is so gentle;
the motion is all love. 

         

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