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.