Before the music ends
I am.

Before the setting of the sun
I am.

Before ever perfect thought was dreamt
I sang -

And in the song that goes on, even as I shut my mouth
there is a long mile I have walked.

In the coming together of two hands, outstretched        -          Two parted lips,
two trees conjoined, there is joy bound to the marriage of true contemplation.
A distillation of peace.

Before the music ends, beyond the rhythm of a day
is calm            strung                        at arm's length
between twin motes of dust.

Nothing more than this       adrift             on a single note.

Ride on.        

            Ride on. And in my heart play this again.
Bend me over a day and into a night,
find me after you have mailed out the last letter
of days gone by                    in silence.

Before these words, finding themselves              within and

My forgetful temperance, fear held down by a pink nightgown
put on only after I tossed these little white gloves across the back of the chair.

These things I know are liminal, never forced but taken in at half-breaths.


            My steps. Undaunted by completion.

Before the music ends
I am
not waiting but begun.


- Kate White