I put a hand up to shade my eyes, air on white linen like the breeze kissing my soul, and you in the barn down the road. "Wildflowers," you said and laced them across my bare legs, fragrant spiders dripping color on my skin and your laughter the music I dream to. "Mountains protect," and I said the words knowing they weren't true , that the fields go on for miles, and that you would not follow me home, but them.