We walk hand in hand for a bit,
stopping at the sight of a butterfly,
green and blue, cousin to a hummingbird,
nosing around the amethyst cones.
Drips of pine scented stillness
fell lightly encircling our pause,
His hand squeezing mine tenderly,
His thoughts easily unspoken.
The rock I chose to rest upon,
cold and slipping dead leaves,
an anchor to my lonely drift,
soaking through my bones.
He lets go to speak to a Blue Jay,
it chatters ceaselessly making no sense,
bringing back a fallen feather,
He lets it fall at my feet.
I reach for it foolishly,
His eyes warm,
saying she’s flown,
just beyond my aching grasp.
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