late sometimes
in the white noise
of the kitchen
night light

I’m withdrawn to
the first lunula of shadow
beyond the bright arc

awaiting earlier days

so many more
around then than now

I close lights
to darken still

I choose nights
cozier, a head under blankets
in wind and light rain, warmer

the smell of earth and
rich-hydrogen, air over lapping water
where salts outrun updrafts

I am happy
torn apart, enlightened and
rendered in heather

we grasp hands
and fly low over

a kiss in wind-spun cascade,
winsome in the crescent
of banked firelight

it’s again tonight and
I’m in the kitchen
once more awash
in fluorescence

Chagall 2018