The cool air slips
Through my morning window
Rests its hand
On my warm neck
And passes on

Here
The deep longing
That comes  with spring
The unbearable pull
That is the teasing echo
Of footsteps walking
Into mist or pall
Always receding
Never reaching

Is it the reverberation
Of an unknown guilt?
Like peeling bells
Cupped to ear
That die across a meadow

He is forever on the horizon
A Perfect and endless
Breaking dawn
Of grief and joy