In the night
what I am perched
on the edge of sleep
you appear, just
out of the dream shadows,
avoiding the light,
you are featureless.
I call to you and I think
you must be smiling
but your voice is the wind
through the Austrian pines
and the drip from the ever
shrinking icicles
that slowly abandon
the eaves of the house.
shadows
THROUGH THE LENS
There are moments
he said, when everything
is suddenly clear
and obvious to me.
But they slip away
and their shadows
quickly fade away.
She said if you stop
looking for the fog
the clarity might linger
besides, how do you
know what is clear
and what is not.