A Glimpse of Things to Come

I re-enter into a past thought through
letters, and linger within―dialogue,
the lateral sequence of
pearl.

I cannot say what moves me or sets
me once more to conversations
in midday, but the senses
becomes brilliant like blue eyes
        late to bloom, clarity
                 ―and a balcony
that
      overlooks a woman   she sweeps
the ice like a mother would her floor.

On the soft on my nape, words,
rainfall, and the sporadic sun
          all positioned to calm the skin,
                         smooth out the cold.

And I see clusters of green birch and geese
                           on the peak of rock-face

they blend into
the scene almost perfectly―chest,
touch, and your voice, would adorn
it even more with a luster so vast,
I might shatter.

A bit outr, but often, I hear you
                                             in the far-flung
boughs of those wintered trees,
    where we embrace letters
                                        to the
                                               last line,
never to disregard what it is we long for.