I am the intimacy

I am the intimacy, 

that escorts between each raindrop down,

that lives the breath life 

between all leaves on each tree,

that sits as the confessional

of all substance holding rigid as firm.

I am the intimacy,

in the petticoat dance of the skirts of clouds,

in the ox-drawn shadows 

that that follow the shadow-furrows 

laid down by the sun

and the constant reminder to blink

without the need of mental distraction.

I am the intimacy, 

that cleans up between each thought,

that gives coloration to each feel as it comes,

that allows for cognition to wonder off 

into dimensions beyond comprehension.

I am the intimacy,

that rhythms in heart beats,

that presents closeness, 

that defies the logic of physical stance,

that leaves each second of time

with an opportunity to newly embrace.

I am the intimacy,

that wells and compels,

that romances all movement

and that experience can't really hide . . .