Scapes of you

Scapes of you

I could crescendo over field lines,
every thin frame of wheat,
take the higher love
of a flush pink sunrise,
call it, condense it, bring it to hand,
could quiver for the earth,
still turning, every fearful oak
on every dusty building site,
could relieve the desert of her sand,
river from his water,
more alluring to me
than any human could be,
even a pile of them
laden in perfect lace,
naturaphile perhaps, made,
desire pumping through her veins -
fresh air and miles wide,
kinked by humanlessness,
that divine divide
between you and I,
each speechless shiver,
the hedgerows coming closer,
could go until hips and knees ache,
until I score
the shade of the Moon
hungering reverently.