Beyond the Juniper Tree

I paused to consider
that solitary juniper tree and how unbearable June really is.
I no longer feel the wind.

I paused to consider
words I would conjure, perfect, and present to you,
as we sit in the shade.

There are words carved in the juniper’s flesh,
tattoos, like moments worth remembering,
exhausted on staging and formality. The lighting was ideal.

And I listened to you laugh, and the transparency of this
weakness was effectuated.
I tried to catch a leaf and it felt, it fell, through my hand.
It tingled with sincerity—a tree
         wanting.

I saw you today and my awe was justified.
Your hair was just slightly curled, your eyes bright:
         I was afraid and enamored. What do you see?
See this, I plan these words, but when these moments surpass,
My mind clears and all I can sense and all I can see and all I can
         say is:

Emeralds.
Transparent emeralds to fill this alveolated existence.