Night Rain

Beneath the rare continuity
of water droplets on
the midnight roof, wakefulness

is a blessing. The leaves
have just begun their change,
and in the nighttime rain,

your soft bodies move closer
toward a center that,
for tonight,

is me. I lie awake
and wonder at the years
that might remain

of this particular sensation,
under a rolling sky
that plays the sweet music 

of the flood, while we dreamers
careen toward the inevitable
morning light.


Slow Burn

Flicker of fire,
and a smoke
that rises
to wind
the eaves,
your face,
as the red
wax melts
to puddle,
wrapping us
in the night’s
dark arms,
the candle,
at last,