August

The shapes of birds--
all white with impending danger--
help make this journey
seem new.
Something different in my sky
until you arrive
and my fear subsides.
You don't know
what I crave half the time.
I'm no mystery,
I've never changed this unspoken yearning.
But you're learning
and I'm trying
new magic
and still search for that shine--
the gold from the earth.
But the wind still calls
for me to fly.
I don't want to lose you,
remember that always
while you're three thousand miles from me.

-G.B.W.