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
Circling
Through the shadows
Through the silence
Passing
Brushing
Kisses
Bring small smiles
Out of the dark
As we dance
In silence
As one
In the deep stillness
Of a new morning