november falls and like deep magick,
it smells of cold amber, cold enough
to hold us to absolute honesty
i walk sharpened by desire to follow
red hawk and wolf for half a moon
along the tender edges, where

something else begins

sometimes trees grow far too wide to hide us
from our eyes but when love comes,
it comes rushing in like ocean
wrapping our world in weightless
blue, a kind of levitation, sublimation
hunter and hunted marry barefoot
in the deep wet black soil, the land remembers
the feet of those who fed it with kindness
when no one was watching
and the uncompromising drumming of the human heart
begins our bodies

of intentional dialogue, of how
we always chose love

of how some tales can only be fully dreamt
when flames rise high inside the hearth
into trust and safety we settle soft
like rocks against the river streams
and it smells of oak burning, amber
and appleskins

what’s left of this loosens
water takes it away

no less purposeful
no less needed
no less loved

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