the sieve and the sand

We touched souls,
you and I.
grasping at clouds
as they passed us by.
in the morning mists
when birds turn to song
each warbled note
becomes a strike on the ancient gong.
sounding out the passing day
watching the dewed grass
where we kissed and lay.
We touched souls,
you and I.
first ours and then
others as they filled the sky
whispering softly
like the birds in song
kissing their ears
telling them peace won’t be long.