Inside my Wednesday pocket
My gaze goes northerly.
Past the arc of San Carlos street
a strand of woven trees march beside and
underfoot the curve of their shy ribbon creek.
Intending winter bare limbs reach and touching
grey above. Should I join and following -
will I find your arms again?
These transient pearls that fall,
embossing rounding rings upon written words -
are these your eyes that seek our last embrace?
If I circle my arms from this small glancing stance,
will sky become breeze beside your cheek?
Will your smile know how it moves these clouds,
grazing south and me below?
Will I remember all of this more than casually
or at the least, remember you? Like beached
grains of sand are redeemed within each tide,
just as you came to me. Like sky, like memory,
will this drift of land, of sea - remember me?
Fetching smile like salt-sea following,
following each step taken, filling in where
past alone would not repeat.
Water rises naturally.
Clouds that take breath and name from you,
northernly lights given southern temperament,
traveling here.
I stand unmoving too, yet reaching what are
not-yet-leaves. Alone, one voice says,
here taste.
I let this rain fall on me.
Again, again, embracing you.
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