In the dawn of a new moon,
The evening birds awaken.
Gentle and still, the stirring
Of amber beneath white sheets
Under silk and Earl Grey mornings.
Candlelight breathes through steam
And quiet fog, raindrops on windows
From gray skies with clouded eyes.
Stark green blades of grass sweep
Across falls while canoes creak in
The lakes behind snow-capped
Mountains, a stillness in the wind.
I dust off my boots like perfume in
Hotel rooms, gathering together
With a steep silence that yields
Through the night, a restless clock.
I scrape water off my heels like a
Ragged stone in some river far away
From here, barren in the overgrowth.
Solemn hours dance steady in a
Foxtrot, laid out in springtime.
Clover fields hold ebony wings
In a swirl of white feathers, as blue
As can be through a hotel window.
You and I both wither in the perfume
That derives from an emerald mist.