With a hush that fell
when all was asleep,
sensory mechanics
of bread, rain, and
a white knitted poncho from childhood
came rushing back to me
–
the fog this morning
was most glorious…
spaces between ages
showed necessary lines;
I will never be as beautiful
but possibly as misunderstood
since carried on vapors
are lessons of silence,
as simple as love or adrenaline
and burned just as quickly.