John Middlebrook

In a quiet field, we stood apart
but close enough to see each other fill
the emptiness between us.

We grew in the arms of the wind,
bending our limbs until they touched
and we entered each other´s room.

There we gauged our distance
and taught our feet to stand firm
as we set separate headings
on the North Star we each found true.

Still, we´ve taken in the same blue air,
and our roots have entangled
in the same wet earth.
The sun crosses our common sky
where each has shaped the other´s view.

So long together, we´ll now each confess
to the same selfish yearning—

that I would be the first to fall
and adorn the burial ground between us,
bestowing both a larger horizon
and the feeling of less;

even as a steady, kinder breeze
blows through me
wanting you to be
the first to fall instead.