Kate McCadden

 That kind of love that sweeps up on the cool breeze of an early spring night
 Where the sky is clear and the horizon clings to last light.
 It steals breath from your lungs and then sneaks in,
 Sparkling lightning rides up from your toes- or did it start in your chest?
                 That kind where you wake up full of it, bursting at the seams
                 It pours out of you and around the room and across the ethers,
                 It creeps up in your dreams and leaves no room for anything else.
 The kind of love that sits in the passenger’s seat of the pickup
With the music a little too loud and the trees flashing by, backlit by a golden sun.
The buzz of motion carrying you into a happy dream,
Or, just down the street to the apple farm on the hill
which serves breakfast family style, at picnic tables, surrounded by friendly strangers.
                 The kind of love that can’t stop kissing in that old lifted Dodge
                 Under the high tension wires, wheels smeared in mud.
 The kind that stays up all night laughing uncontrollably,
Tears streaming over your cheeks which ache from smiling.
                The kind of love that rescues you when you’ve been fighting in the trenches.
                That treasures the parts of you that you can’t come to terms with.
                That grows intertwined with you, gently, sharing sunlight.
                That holds you steady when you find yourself on a foundation of sand.
The kind of love that changes the game.
The kind that sets you free.