The sweet mountains drift in green haze.
June's on the way. The sun's deep in the ground.
Tilled acres are filled with warm seed.
Too soon.
I need the slow season so much now sometimes
I can feel on my body December's watery light.
How cold the glass was that the sun shone through
On you undoing the buttons slowly
So you could lay down your head on my breast
Before you left.
I grow pale as winter remembering how we took our time
(And the going so close)
As if we had the whole year for such candor,
And we had not.
All spring you've been gone.
The days grow long.
Still I could say it is all right for you to be slow
Coming home, if only you come.
But I can't.
The brief spring burns away
Our final season.
Soon we will rest forever motionless
Under as sun that holds no season for us.
Everything will be cold that touches us.
Even each other.
Then bring back winter again,
The sun on the zodiac
Halted at solstice,
Cold at the brink,
While we take our time with each other
Close, under slow December light.