More about the dark than the light,
More about the night and the half light,
Those who lived above me in my youth,
The numerous dead beneath me in my age,
In an owls' brocade and the weave of the moon
Two days from full, I'm thinking of you, too,
Rain on the lake in twilight, a limb over a limb,
The warmth of that, the communion of silence,
An empty bed, the drifting boat,
Drifting on the river of the night,
Slender fingers dragging through the dark
Setting all the stars ashimmer where they float.
