Conversations (VI) — to the future

With eyes closed I can hear you smile.
Your voice a place I know my way around.

Woodpeckers say goodnight the strangest way
And other birds of winter appear as singular

Leaves of gray, blue, gold on the trees
We can only see through their nakedness.

I drop your eyelids’ map of dreams:
Everything you are I still don’t know

Runs through my veins
Like the flight patterns of birds

that never have to know the route

7 thoughts on “

      1. zdunno03

        I’ll be back, Jeff, but probably not my next trip, which will be shorter than last time. But when I come back in November, 2017, I will wing my way to your porch.

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