waking to saturn

surely
we should write in the sky with cinnamon toast points
ruby chalk the leaves to play red rover among stars
peeling otter bark from taffy streets to feed our souls relief
crystal rolled to open
pine & honeyed
if you close your eyes just right
softly with the dreams of your six-year-old self
close your eyes
and lift the scarred corners of your peach-pit mouth
to rise
to fly
to the constellation just north of the meridian

of
you