more to me
than yellow leaves
a kiss beneath a whistle
count the stars
to speak of me
somehow

reminded of another
life –
the ancient ones recall
colors left of living
faded now

if e’er the time
for turning home –
was cool beneath my feet
the ways of love
I’ve come
to know them well

silence lures
with tender tongue
so sweet
the lover’s cry
dying holds a story
few can tell

for every chance
another took –
nights of consequence
and there
beyond the vapor
fires burn

to fell the barn
where winter wheat
is stacked
the same as letters
taken breath
another love to learn

. . .