Our hands cold in each other’s hands

we look again for a certain apparition

in the distance above the hills

even as our ears sting where they meet our hair,

even as we see in its glow

the lost color of our faces,

feel the wind we walk against

sear from us another evening of youth.


As quickly as trees lose sun to sky

we know as well to race against darkness

back to electricity and the warmth of walls

where once inside, still coated and scarved,

we collapse into arm chairs,

breathe deeply in front of gas fired logs,

nest in animal fear against elements as predictable

as the rotations of the earth and disappearance of light

in wonder of the last burst of sunset.