The Nares of Looking

Oh gentle tread
in dreams beneath
our footing,
will rise and curl
to meet the nares
of looking.

To tilt the head
and swell the cache
of wonder,
vanilla balm
the babes of
darling slumber.

With milk and skin
and wrapped around
our founding
in strawberry fresh
and summer rain
to grounding.

In swift lit match
to dolly flame
to travel quick
to earthen dame
and lumber smoked
in tendrils silver
where hearts
lay camped
in maple
winter.

Where forest gum
and crispest pine
will coax to blissful,
the scent the sense of
ever afters
wishful...

and even regular
and pavement heat
all drenched in parking,
the rainstorm
is the steam cup
for the larkin'...

Steamboat in a
coffee grinding glory,
where the ocean salted history
warms our story,
Oh gentle tread
the thread beneath
our footing
will rise and curl
to meet the nares
of looking.