i look up at the moon
and wonder–
are you looking at the moon?
are you wondering if i’m
wondering
if you’re looking at the moon?

you do not hesitate to be heard–
boldly and with confidence,
loudly and in the present moment,
you do not hesitate

the snow drifts quietly,
flake by flake–
melting like languid moments
in lost memories

i broke a long stick today, just to see it bend and hear it snap

there are times when tender moments shed,
like soft green pine needles in the breeze
and after they’ve turned brown and are laying
in a thick carpet on the ground,
i scoop them up, like treasure–
and tuck them into my heart

those lines running across the country
from town to town and city to city,
from you to him and from him to her,
from north to south and east to west–
tangible, steadied, or invisibly readied,
from there to here and where to when,
from us and back to them again–

still, there’s no real connection

when leaves look like
suspended wings,
tired and brittle–
my thoughts grow melancholy
and i let the wind
chill me to the bone
before turning away