Green atlas

the light plays on your pupils

constantly as a

child with a ball

is unsatisfied with every

single blade of grass,

every inch of cloud;

your nose has pierced the sunshine

and where distance meets the horizon,

i hold out my hands,

become one with the earth,

and fall in a waterfall

the distance to the horizon-

knowing full well the length

i'll have to fall,

i'll have to cry,

to reach it down there.