The future pales
to lavender
the way sunsets do,
the edge of the earth
the door
day departs through.
Shifting hearts, like low
dunes, still warm
with afternoon,
welcome night, unfixed
as new-sown stars.

In need of a cloud
to carry us—
the kind that keep
a hold and move
like the wide world,
so imperceptibly slow,
past planets small
as stars, with the earth
so far below somehow
life stills,
swirls of white
on blue
obscuring the shapes
of landmasses
we learned in school.

The effort, a deep down-hinge of wings,
a sea sigh
we feel
as osprey rise
ever higher, into thinner atmosphere
and we can’t remember, sand
in the corners of our eyes.

Night and herons pass
between trees,
the intermittent bus
with its dim
foci approaching.
Home by unfamiliar
roads, in the clearing
the low moon
shows. Routine
passengers drift
near sleep. Alert
to passing time, I am
awake with the wait.