I want you as the morning stills, birds not
yet singing their songs, clouds still unformed, hiding
beneath the red horizon, waiting.
I want you as the noon shines down, blaring
like a trumpet’s call, paws and feet pounding
against the soft and hardened ground.
I want you as the sky turns to gray turns
to black, and stars begin to swirl, as the dust settles
for the night, ready to rise again day after day.