You came to me again on a detached
coastline with a drift migration of wrynecks.
Inexperienced, they had lost their flyway
to an Eastern wind and now found
themselves on accidental ground. You were
in their roving motions, searching for new currents
and it took me back to our walk together
in raw air and itchy woollen scarves.
Declining light and maple trees closed in red
and outlined you against autumn. There, I inhaled
you, drew you into my lungs and let you fill
my bloodstream. And as the birds took off
formed a black sun against a different
autumn sky, I felt you rush through my body
before leaving me again, to the remains of us.