My shadow long
among the longer shadows
of the maples and the oaks,
we know each other well,
good company for fifty years
on this mountain slope,
the great budding crowns
softly breathing,
sunlight lifting from the valley.
You should be here.
The sun itself,
low among the trunks,
an urchin of refraction,
its fiery spines
radiating through the mist,
silent and descending.
On such an evening
I dare to imagine
two minds, one sun,
nuclear fusion.
You should be here.
