Things caught hopelessly in peripheral view

tasted on lips: moistened, but – in the time

of the dawnbird’s passage – cracked,

Shudderlongingly dry.

So you are

glimpsed and barely known – a dream

woken from into the colored morning with weary eyes.

crumpled disconsolately

like many half-remembered things –

ungrasped, sandshifting possibilities.

I shall regret you.

Even so, you were a mere reflection;

flickering from half-drunk cups of tea

as a petal tumbling briefly into wet grass.

The bird’s flight arcs past –

Continually fading

in the mind’s eye, but never reaching black.