there is a special kind of gold saved for the darker months of autumn. i think that the sun must drink it down to stave off the numbing chill until his cheeks glow, the honey dripping down his chin, soaking into the ridges of the trees before he turns back over in his bed. i wonder if he dreams of her as the shadows stretch under his windowsill, if he glimpses her crescent smile as he closes his eyes, if he feels her hand touch his brow, cool like the northern tide before the stars hurry her away

tendrils of your aura shimmering, your heart shivering in respiration and the radiance of its sonar

as it echoes towards my coordinates, closer and closer, as the constellations spin in their dominions, stars and asterisms cantillating

a chorus, we are musical instruments correlating, synchronizing in time,

a synergy;

somewhere, you are volant in your sky, as I am in mine, and we rise toward each other, feathers of our wings

reaching.