Better

And I will love you
with the windows of
my heart rolled down,
to let you in as the 
highway zephyr
through my bones.


Because there is
no greater time
than pink evenings
with winds that blow
the curtains freely.
No better time to 
roll down all the hills
of green new life
and to let you
into my soul.


To open my
ribcage to 
you
with this beating
heart-bird winging
away, and the sad song 
it makes matches
the fading the sun.


No better day to
pin the laundry
on the line and let
the sun run her
hands through its
threads. And the trees
will bend to dapple the
children with verdant light.


Because there is no better
place than the hollow
of summer suburbia,
no better time than 
the inverse of dawn
to whisper
back to your zephyr 
fingers that I love
you with the windows
of my heart rolled down.