3 AM


The cry of the owl

“Who cooks for you?”

Drifts in the open window

Bringing back memories

Of small fires

And isolated places

The scent of the lilac

Rides in with the owl’s cry

Hovering in the room

As we stand in silence

Relishing the stillness

The darkness

But mostly

Relishing each other

As if in slow motion

I watch your hand

Settle on my shoulder

My right hand finds your waist

Our left hands meet and hold

We are spinning


Through the shadows

Through the silence




Bring small smiles

Out of the dark

As we dance

In silence

As one

In the deep stillness

Of a new morning