We should be close now,
but then again it could be
another decade or two.
Handhold after handhold,
we learn by touch the longest
part of a minute, the bluest
edges of a shadow.
Inside each cell, there is
either breathing or not
breathing. Soft grey
is the color of certain
parts of earliest
morning. Noon is always
overhead, a chandelier
whose sounds reflect
circles struck by birds
when they’ve returned
to the river.
The moon appears
only as reminder: it’s time
to fold your sleeve into a pillow.
In response to Via Negativa: Landmark.