early dawn
fades into grey

i carried your name
into the pale
winter morning

the sound
of the waking birds
touches skin
to skin

the night falls
in silence

time
fades the
summer grass

and i count
each
stepping breath
of your heart

i keep
a light on
for you
quiet voices
follow
each nodding
turn
of an hour

the night
passes cold
between
the ache
of my fingers

we talk in
half-hearted courtesies
it's hard to mention
the sun as
it settles
like a child into
the bruised
line of the horizon

our voices carrying
with the sound
of the ocean's
constant turning

morning mixes
with the smell
of the dying roses
you tell me
that God
is a father to
the fatherless and i
say nothing
watching the shape
of the leaves
drowning line
into line
against the changes
wavering in the strings
of autumn

the smoke rose
curling silver
your fingers
move a circle
from your eyes
to the burning
point of your
cigarette

somewhere
her silence folds
around the touch
of an ending
sigh

hand falling into
empty hand

i can feel
the turn
of your season
fading

the dull
gathering
of the rain
gives weight
to the bend
of new leaves