Early Morning

Sorry, I’m still sleeping,
dreaming
of foothills like focaccia,
how we fall into their valleys,
intimidated by immensity.
Creamsicle sky melts into blue,
moon like an opal brooch
pinned to a black blazer sky.
You show up like it’s my birthday.
We watch lightning from my bed,
soft storm strobe illuminates lips
unable to contain.
I know this is a dream
because you wouldn’t smile at me now.