The cool air slips
Through the morning window
Rests its hand
On my warm neck
And passes on

Here the deep
Longing begins
That comes  with spring
The unbearable pull
That is the teasing echo
Of footsteps
Walking into mist
Always receding
Never reached

Is it the reverberation
Of an unknown guilt?
That, like peeling bells
Cupped to an ear
Die across a meadow

He is forever on the horizon
A perfect and endless
Breaking dawn
Of grief and joy