This Charting of Light

My god, moss on damp stones.

My soul as river runoff.

The memory of water I cannot undo. I wash my soul's cloak there. I walk across the blankness of its frozen pathways. My shoreline erodes into an ever-hungry tow. On which side of lake shall I wait, beloved?

my body
an instrument
forbidding music

This is the road I die crossing. Can you not see or feel this? Will you not meet me there?

Dusk climbing into my heart earlier than expected. Dinner is eaten by lamplight and the woods begin to fill with falling leaves. A million dead things added to the pyre. The charting of light.

Spider webs broken on the morning hike. Goldenrod, chicory, and lace. I've thought about our sun-warmed backs, winding on the ancient trails. Migration patterns; am I right?

Wind off the small pond captures the exact moment I knew what I wanted, and it carries this note and no other.