I will be the sun dripping
Down legs of golden heroes
I will be the crumbling dirt
Amidst each footstep, counted
I will be the wings soaring
To each ebb and matching flow
I will be the wandering nomad
Caught in effortless migration
I will be the passion building
Spring cannot be stopped
I will be the hours breathing
While a hand rests, exhausted
I will be the knot tied
Alert silhouetted cacti
I will be the red ball
Dipped into old red wine
I will be the front porch song
For each moment you are my anchor.