"On the fringes of outskirts..."
On the fringes of outskirts of an outlying town,
the dust gives validity to the passing of time,
so you relish it more as the evening winds down,
and you put all your faith in this new paradigm.
Even crickets don’t dare to intrude on your silence.
Night are impassible. In daylight, you reap
shades of all colors to be stored in your iris
and later revived once you’ve fallen asleep.
The one that you love likes to keep windows opened
and a playful draft causes curtains to gleam.
You pretend to be sleeping, reclaiming a moment
to delight in the remnants of a wonderful dream.
Hand in hand with your daughter, you blend into summer,
with a pencil, you mark her height on the wall,
and new poetry comes, unforced and unsummoned,
spilling out like light, hardly noticed at all…