Wendels Elm Moment

the leaves on the tree

are thinking of falling,

boats burn on lake at night

as descending sun

gives a moment,

the surge in your fig eyes

brings the languish

of body and spirit,

sweet seasons juice

almost quenched,

bringing bitter almonds

to my heart,

music dense in bone

we have to expect a something new

tentative bridges to fragile blue ice,

the surge will come

i will be at your door

under shivering boughs

backlit galvanized lights

fold into the night,

for it is to come,

but for now,

as silent gardens ponder

vague unfamiliar shapes,

the song still plays

as a moth takes descent,

it is a lonely outpost that i

maintain.