Given periods of rise and fall
and scattering

there comes that sweet release, resolve
collecting as things do
coalescence

when again the dream is real

these years and this place
these quiet streets
this moon
they return

when again I speak
to the quiet lives beneath these stones

I see their days without these lights
I watch their bricks with fresh mortar placed
and feel their lives laid out, complete

when again I raise eyes to stars and trees
and feel my step

an assurance of days