Slipping between the curtains of darkness and light

Slipping on the differences of sex and love

Gazing impassively at silence, then noise

Weathered hands

Gently push and pull empty space

Kneading time

Needing time

To for once be truthful

The deer races across the meadow in the predawn

Head thrown back

Twelve points savagely rake the blue/black sky

A dog’s lonesome bark

Echoes into the emptiness

A baby’s cry

Falls all alone on her mother’s ear

Pushing and pulling

Our very existence manipulated

I settle back against her warmth

There is a great silence

A great stillness

To our living breathing being

I feel her hand on my forehead

Closing my eyes

I gently slip off and away

Gently falling

Far into the distance