born
between
the bonfires
and the fog
too late
for fireworks
too soon for god
too slow for autumn
too fast for frost
I was
the wintering man
I am
the misty morning man
the time to sink into the warm man
and when all trace of me
seems gone
I will be
the gentle breeze
the curlews cry
the moments when
just you and I
beneath this blue
autumnal sky
would rather live
and never die

11/19/2007