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by habit still dreaming
but the chill air is better.
mornings, breathe ice
we rub our eyes twice
walnuts and seeds
for the sleepy mice
frost on the road:
this familiar cold
the long-sweetened apples
are full and bold.
hands buried deep
in the pockets of my coat
longing settles
softly in my throat.
we walk in the silence
of our steps and our breath
our reverie fleeting,
i'm not ready yet.
kiss me beneath
the shivering trees
the dwindling leaves
are wistful and sweet
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