Length of day is immaterial,
talking becomes irrelevant.
Walk on soft darkening forest earth
until legs give way
or every prayer’s been spoken
and sent up emptying branches.
We hold sway over loss
with gentle pressure, moving together.

How many signs needed
I wonder
after the heron
and rainbow
took my morning thunder
and turned it into
something softer…
why continue to look
for something I suspect
I already hold,
like a shadow in check
or my elbow after bumping it
or even a laugh
when the world kicks me again.

My ears popped and I could hear
clearly- not that I knew I had been muddled-
and I was too embarrassed to ask
if anyone could hear the constant low hum
or was I hallucinating
a distant aircraft
or are they racing coupes again in the dirt
or maybe it’s farm machinery at night,
making weird associations
reminding me of a childhood
I didn’t have, with animals and fresh bread
and a porch swing…
Somehow climbing the stairs
brings fresh sounds, like an aural Alpine gust
and I think maybe I’m the only one
listening.
A sneeze is coming and I’m afraid
of losing the hum when my ears un-pop.

In a perfect moment,
shadows would not take anyone’s place
and there’d be no need for consolation-

Touching would be everything
and no calculation would be extraneous
because we are not ever unnecessary

Concrete would be beautiful cracked
and no toll would be needed
to take the heart of me

Valiant weeds would be heralded
making their stand between your teeth
as we crest before sunset