sky thicket
There are stories I have not written,
paths I’ve not walked, nor trampled,
bramble I have yet to tangle with

there is peace in the dust

Footprints in the lie of my heart,
narrow heel and textured sole, your well-worn moccasins
left to dry upon sun-warmed wood

I have rarely seen yellow so blue

The absence of you,
the anticipation of someday

There are words to you I have not spoken,
ideas I have not explored, nor endured,
webs I’ve not woven

My mind is a round I sing,
a duet I perform, a half-verse behind
with you a step ahead, a whole-tone higher

And I am a stray astray,
bled in thick bramble

Chagall 2020