We

all

speak

in to

silence

and

if

lucky

hear

an

echo

Neon

schools

in

oceans

Diamond Head

Waikiki

Porto

and

Venice

jungles

with

promise

of

gardens

certainty

home

the

world

planets

stars

the

moon

cresting

the

ridge

aged

Burgundies

oysters

I

I

simply

see

him

It is

only

when

I

and

me

turn

to

us

and

we

It is

not

about

what is

said

It is

about

what

is

heard

He

he was a

fawn

and

I

I was a

poet

a

lifetime

ago

straining

to stand

he

he

cantilevered

and

I

I

was an

oak

in a deep

green

forest

he

preened

rubbing

his

pelt

against

my

bark

now

a lifetime

past

he

he

continues

to

roam in

deep

forests

and

I

I

am

moored

alone

on

prarie