the sun arcs into evening and the moon grows fatter
by each lengthening night
in accordance with the shape our shadow casts
in measurements of time we gave a name.
celebrating the cyclical journey in our own ways.
extract the marrow.
say thank you.
wrapped in faded remnants of summer sun
the tree beside the church begins to blush
as the slender bodies of birch shed their tiny golden leaves.
fingerprint patterns decorate the pool of water
that reflects the world upside down and back at itself.
the earth and air cool, share and seduce with their september scents
as the light spreads bright and thin across the wall
and we speak with gods and remain humble.
without fail the sun in liquid light kisses the horizon
at the end of each day and we hold out our tongues
to lick the fresh wounds from the bruised knees of the night
as we pass through our own flames to the root of the soul
and come face to face with our point of origin
if only we read the map right.....