Valse Triste

.

We dance.

I speak, you listen– you speak,

I reply– now we are up on the roof

of the house, waving our arms

at the stars– we can count on them

and the solid timbers.

.

I ran

and I returned.

You drove away,

came back.

We look out at the peach sky,

at the tall grass where foxes

come close,  go away,

.

Safe distance, come in

slink away, to a rise

yipping at the stars

calling out to coyote brethren.

.

So late. 60’s– we

age and burn

and turn, laugh, cry

sip coffee

out in the dark a star falls,

a cinder

earth smolders on we

speak and savor

.

And out of words,

no yarns left to spin

until

tomorrow

same place, new time

.

To the dirt road

over the bridge, back,

to safety, home

not home

held fast

by the random comforts

of the night.