For some it might be arduous
an obligatory response
to get from here to there
so you’ll know I’m here
to see if you’re there.

But for me it is air
my oxygen
inspire – to catch your spirit
expire – to leave mine.
It is how I renew my life
how I die… just a little
with each stroke of the pen
each tap of the keys.

It is living.
Without it
I leave you
I leave me.

I strum these lines
beat the drum of their rhythms
the dark of their repetitions
are the veins of my redemption.

My lines are letters to you
and when you reply
your words are blood of your life
not so much a flood as arteries of light
and along these lines your grace tries
to reach me and squelch my lies.

My erratic heart
won’t allow
a warm, steamy, delicious cup of coffee
nor a refreshing potion of gin
the sensuous dissolving of a bite of cheesecake
in my mouth seems a distant memory
all these minor losses
accrue into a long slow goodbye.

My prayer is
to go deeper
so I can go wider
in the middle
of now

The orbit of my days
is degrading
this pervading darkness
a gravity
that’s shrinking the life out of us

Sun shines through
the first orange leaves of autumn
coolness has settled
on the grass now turning a slight yellow.

Again we are in a season
of transition
me and Earth.

I am comfortable here
in this autumn.