leaves shift, ready to fall
becoming aware of my own shifting
ready to shed the year’s languishing
becoming October’s possibility
the winter seed of this year’s prayer
becoming the flaying of my own beliefs
becoming malleable
the way one begins
making room
and finding there is
roots spread beneath this fragile roof
the feeling of your open palms
becoming clasped, becoming kept
and learning how to keep you
where roots cannot reach
becoming words whispered under the pillow
I am entirely yours—
—where are you?
I cannot sleep alone
becoming the great divide
between evening drift
and morning grace
—smell of sweet hibiscus!
becoming pink
washed through paper windows
and I reach for you across the table
ready to rest on your shoulders
ready to sync into you
like two birch trees
leaning against one another
becoming one
