the white gold had fallen
just after you reappeared
with your hands open to us

leaving this sugar coating
to absorb the let downs
that come as your feathers drop

the surface remains sticky
because the water pushed through flakes
and as your pitter patter to away
returns to us always
your trail is left behind
for me to gather and adorn

but with each string and piercing
i am reminded
that you are as much of a ghost as i
only capable of leaving
a gorgeous devastation for us to divine

the leaves have you
they always have
more then i, i suppose
but who am i to find myself jealous
of such worship
when the trees have my mercy

and now that they contain your cellular
we again find ourselves silent
in between bliss





but it's






your stare in my direction
that could freeze my honey solid
but i dream to

drip
for your grinds
always

while the sun finds our morning





so i choose to sip away
at the bitter
craving the crystalline that congeals
in clumps
mindful of the ritual
we desire

leaving my hand on the rail