True friend.

I'll tie your wrists together
with waxy saplings
bending and winding the infinite symbol
sealing the ends with sap.
I'll crush the leaves 
between my fingers, under your nose.
You can breathe deep, sleep
and dream of tangerine fractals
tidal waves 
and shifting, emerald sands.

I'll watch a single candle burn
flickering valiantly against gusts 
that steal between wooden boards.
I'll tend to the shutters and question
the shadows that come creeping
during the small hours.
You can trace the dunes with a finger and listen 
to distant rockfall in ravines
the wing beats of honeyeaters
and the footsteps of Saturn.

After a time
I'll throw dried sage over charcoal
and waft it around with my hands
to help wake you
guide you back.
I'll let the sun in across your blanket
to warm you and secure your vision
then I'll leave you with tea
and step out into my own morning
while you linger with the incense
counting your understandings 
and watching your bonds dissolve.