This Place Meant

Alone by my cabin
A far span from a suburb
With dew to meet me at morning's yawn

The sunglint from my water pail
Gets at my eyelids
And I hear birds in the branches behind me

Turning
I also hear your voice
Flying through fallen leaves

You brush against my face
Stop short of my lips
Afraid to remind me of midsummer

It is a cool wind
I wish it was not
I wish for many things

The green carpet grounds me and I lay upon it
Looking up beyond the peaks of the pines
At a blue that refuses to rain

Wet cold seeps into my back
But I do not move
Fixed by the blue

Not quite the colour of two eyes
Still clear to me despite the new quiet
A where without a when

As if the connection to you was all around
In out-of-reach fragments
Which may be why I'm out here