My window at night, iv

Breathe air into my words.
Give them spaciousness,
room to roam and be flexed,
to be held, warmed,
to have fingers run across them,
pausing, to know the sense
of being swallowed bit by bit,
or held on the tongue.

Let them open up onto the prairie
to play in all the adventure
of the wide, clear spaces,
to be enthralled by what is plain,
to unwrap the spider’s web,
trace the trails of rain,
how the breeze clips the edges
of the grass, but no more.