settle me in
as seasons digress
and leaves
burn their way
into snow
reminded of iris
– the color of wings
and a time
passed before
I could know

what was truth
to rekindle
a flame nearly gone –
a song
almost faded
from word
skins are worn easy
as twilight to press
life into passing
unheard

trace
comprehension
of places between
the last on my pillow
– a time
disappeared
starlight is writ
to the back of my hand –
counting my way
back to here

. . .