Slow Waltz
The star chart blinked like
beacons splashing across
strewn-water horizon, outside
and crossing chevron nights
through wanderlusting glass.
With one stitch and
becoming again a cross of
arms, the rhythm-scrape of
foot soles on plank and
cut turf; we turn up
In odd places, winding down
a meadow staircase and
freeze a glacier stare
in time between us
and echo, echo lost
Follies in stepping too soon.
