In the half-light, a distant memory
creates a second kind of time,
as the circulation system of grief
extends in branches over
leaves scattered in the mud.
Across fields and behind lights,
packages are opened and smiles exchanged,
while, in this place,
even the possibility of connection seems
illusory and beyond reach.
The clouds swirl in circles,
the day dies,
and the viewer inches closer
to following it