i went with you towards the waning of the old moon,
enclosed in a season, stricken with half-glow, i went with
you to a blue enclosure, whose hands cannot bridle you,
as they, hunters all, would a thing that refuses to be held.
you happen everywhere as though secrets alighting pursed lips
and fragment breathing, springing in with the indelible hue
of autumn, yellowing all around me, where I join you, someday,
where trees bend slowly towards a reason, careening and pulling
back days  that closed our eyes and carved in with sleep,
like a prescient dream where all but motioning parts of you
     join from all separateness as though
                                             you were still here and never departed.