The touch was familiar
but there was a new light;
we had been looking far
into the distance for too long
and our focus inward had become
blurred, but the light was persistent
in its exploration of our details.
Our emotions were transcribed
-like reading veins on a leaf.
Long-term effects of light
and touch remain inconclusive.
Further study required.

Where have we been, that a season
has almost past with our barely noticing
the cold or the shifts in wind?
Does time hide with the sun?
Have the trees been talking?
Did ice ever have a chance with our heat?

I vaguely notice a tilted moon
or a morning with little birdsong
but being so full of you,
I am lacking nothing important.

Swallowed a moon and yet
felt light as a feather
between rows and rows
of watchful crickets.

The path was worn
and the brambles high
like a happy trapping
inside a sleepy wood.

We fit like a framed portrait
of a timeless embrace
with winter stars
or summer lightning.