Her shrill call comes carrying more
than this hour we keep.

And we desire a feather
to arrange for each hour,
as those before

but receive only hunger:
carnivore's memory,
an unfillable bucket.

Not to awaken us entirely
we fall into soft beds,
feathers.

See the fact of tomorrow and
tomorrow provided

like the floating "here"
in another's eye, this meal,

the uninterrupted dive.
We do not remember it.

It always feels nice being on the road with his hand in yours and the scent of tobacco and pine.
He takes you to the place he calls home.

Campfires and reading about the inevitable apocalypse with the light from the fire that is starting to burn out
You look up and the moon shines through the cracks in the trees.

Abstract drawings and sounds of nature.
The caw of the goshawks keeping you up in the tent,
A hike that is familiar to him, you feel a presence and are assured you are safe.

Before it is time to leave, you both run as the storm crashes and rain pours from the sky into the blue hole.
Then the lightning peeks through the clouds and the darkness begins to subside.

You breathe in... and.. out... catch your breath and take a look around at the dense forest.
You find the one that looks at you like he's going to save you.