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We sit and we talk, not of much but
Of little. I see the moon, the moon sees me
I would smile but
It would be meaningless. I wouldn't want it to be
But in the landscape of tilted heads
While the sky sheds
Skin on my body I feel
My voice quiet to a halt, and this is where I am
You in this light feels new/woken
Woven deep until the roots
Touch dryness against the fallen limb of oaken
This place speaks. It says many things
Of nothing, makes
No demands, and offers
No salvation
Only repeats what you say in
A way you've never heard it
An echo off the far wall
A reflection of your face
I see the moon
The moon sees me
That's enough
