I HEAR YOU Don’t speak, precious one. I hear your cry a thousand miles away, the silent tears strangling your throat, burning your eyes. Come, young or old, and lay your head in my arms. My lips against your cheek, as I have so often…

bathing the sand in swatches of tangerine, indigo, lavender your hand rests on mine there in the reedy grasses just like it was at the beginning but weren’t we tentative then– fumbling toward something I wasn’t sure you wanted? we’ve learned to bend into each…