in the swell of the tide
a breath before rising –
in the roll of the sands
neath the shore
I’ve noticed the rivers
run deeper than blood –
and the trees
taller still than before

I’ve reckoned the sun
how she leans to the right
when no one is watching
but me
how she warms to my skin
as home she remembers –
a lantern set high
on the sea

sometimes morning
awakens the night –
with whispers of promise undone
prickled by weeds
berries and blossom –
fireflies skimming
the pond

bitterly sweet
scattered transgressions –
as who for another
moment would trade
dust from a memory
of life as we knew –
to wait for a night
in the shade

. . .