09/15/2026
Run, Run
This body is a wild one:
love ripping through these veins
like fire across a prairie,
eager and hungry and holy.
Wilder still are the humming bees
that make this garden their home,
the sharp sunset color
in the dying autumn leaves,
the river running so fast
it trips over its own feet
and tumbles down a mountainside.
This heart is chasing that river,
chasing the fish swimming downstream
and the leaves about to touch soil
and the tide pulling away from the shore.
This heart is sprinting down dirt paths,
breathing so hard she might crack open.
All this running, and all for this:
She wants to love like thunder,
love like the smell of honeysuckle,
love with all the reckless abandon
of summer afternoon rain.
—Jess Reynolds
Love Like Thunder
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