destiny sleeps
in sheets of november
a provision
of summers long passed
bested in shades –
a blush yet becoming
the same as was once
you saw me
this way

kissed by the shadows
and left
on the morning
wanting for nothing
but another first time
returning as blossom
unremembered
to falling

as thistle to reason –
longing divine

let me to find you
when snow
bends the cedars
as wintertime warmed
to a place
by my name
take of my always
one more hereafter
sleep where I’m dreaming
with memories
of may

. . .