Lunar light touches your cheek

soft curls paint a border-line,

seized in pastel, black, grey, white

the mirror creaks, leaves rustle

and beneath in store for us they keep

in a locked chest, waxed, sealed,

the list of names, none too grand.

War-torn, a leaf falling

red imprints on fog-mired turf,

the spiral here is waning,

stroking October oil's mist,

the tracks' vanishing point

over the hill; and we're fit for flying

I wish it all as you do.

Sun catching, the church organ

a benign dust leaks sentient,

scattered, hardy men, twist slow

(through the radio forecast's burr -

salt and water, lights, the sound);

art unveiled and silence glistens

upon each: another yesterday.