My legs itch against,
The peeling paint pine,
As I sit in the cold out-back.

The garden's in gloom,
Gone is the moon,
But here hovers dew tears.

Soft purrs and bird caws,
Rustling trees
fill the empty space.

Cracks of warm glow,
Glisten like fresh snow,
On the harsh crazy-paved ground.

The air is so still,
The moments do as they will,
As I clutch a cool brew in tight grasp.

Hair is a blanket,
I want to thank it
and all the little I have.

As the floating time,
Rising flame,
Song of the wildlife around.

Keep in harmony,
Perfect choir,
Making the mourning seconds sound.