Cold light crawls
across the lawn,
stains the crocuses red.
Dawn claims the waking earth,
savage in its taking.
Your fingers glide along mine,
the blanket,
the wet loam beneath,
but you are no more mine
than nature is under God’s dominion.
You live doubly these days.
You are here
and elsewhere,
lodged in the silver cracks
between life
and nowhere.
