it has been one revolution
around the sun
since you became the sun

it has been four sweeps
of the seasons
since you became the seasons

it has been twelve months
of moons
since you became the moon

it has been without measure
since you became

unabraded
address the day

let light shake
and shadow stir

unknot it all
and watch everything

in the world
give into flame

dance relieved
and weightless

and breathe
and breathe
and breathe

i have grown used to the moon
early each morning
waiting there above me

ever growing ever receding
for weeks now
the skies have been perfectly blue

first light prismed in slight violet
lingering just before the breach
of the horizon line

at night the stars
and planets
pierce with warm purpose

a world away
the wolves sing
in the dark woods

a world away
the whales sing
in the deep waters

a world away
we sing
to the ancient music of fire

grains
of sun

untied laces
of snow

urgent shadows
of birds

perfect shards
of stars

they are parceled out
in increments

of wonder
divvied up

in morsels
of joy

grey the low rumbling of early morning thunder
the heavy scent of rain and magnolia
however the calling of the crows declare that no storm will arrive

a doe stood silently
we watched each other with mutual curiosity
later i would come across another
holding out my hand she approached a few tentative steps
but stopped and quickly turned away

blueredgrey
bluejaycardinalheron

moss covered and motionless a turtle sat sunning on a log
a black snake freshly dead on the side of the road
its brilliant body already blunting in the afternoon sun

the gloaming shadows reached across
in ripples swallows and swifts scooped the surface of the pond
readying themselves for night the geese made their way to the center of the pond

the spin of a planet
the nudge of a glacier

the push of a wing
the blink of an eye

light whispers hello
goodbye

the voices in the leaves said
let us rest

we are weary
our bones are brittle

our skin fragile
let us gather here

for just a moment
to catch our breath

before the wind wakes
and casts us along

scratching
patternless

and disintegrating

the ceiling is grey
as are the walls

and the rain
the sidewalks

and streets gloam
with the wild litter

of leaves
faded colors

corner into collections
gather at the mouths of gates

they brew in puddles
steep in the chill

of november
the reign of autumn

is over
winter waits

for no one
which makes these last notes

all the more miraculous