How many moons must go by in which I miss your gaze?
There is no reason I should care but the forest is ablaze and ashes are falling all around.
I see the smoke curl around branches and all I think about is tender shoots pregnant with sap.
Why must you turn away from me?
There is a familiar knot that swells in my throat,
I can’t see anything, the smoke is so thick
I must turn the other way
Spinning around I bump into you
The hidden places I did not look
are right in front of me.