Time

a nested raven-
spreads his ebon wings beneath
the lunar eclipse
–
winter sky-
the moon
as blood

the hours before dawn
I wake to your skin on mine
under the duvet
–
winter’s breath-
maple leaves
under fresh snow

reaching for your hand
I would touch you if only
I could turn back time
–
under the oak tree-
lost in our
history

the wan morning light-
wrapped up in your nakedness
unwilling to move
–
your damp hair-
for now I’m
the big spoon

empty wine bottles-
binging our favorite series
into the wee hours
–
dying embers-
our feet under
the afghan

the last day of spring-
apple blossoms ride on the
late afternoon breeze
–
barefoot-
crab apples
in the grass

at the podium
a wool blanket wraps itself
around my tongue
–
summer sun-
snowy cotton
waiting for harvest

this fight is over
and yet I find myself still
walking on eggshells
–
fallen trees-
we drive home
in silence

by a forest stream
above the frogs and crickets-
winter stars appear
–
late spring thaw-
fox kits cross
a fallen oak

friends and enemies
all are but dust as I wait
for mortality
–
a dark attic-
old records
gathering dust