Trading…

Trading Cambridge for Callanish, I dream you other than you are, trade protons for harmonies, reasoned precision for poetry, and understand these are not other, except when you look in the mirror of mountains reflecting traces. Autumn’s first confetti adorns a cairn at waters edge, home to fairy folk and regret at your absence. You, choosing harness and rope over possibilities of happiness. A fleeting feeling lost, and found in favorite things, not equations with unacceptable solutions but love — the sort that stirs shoulder to shoulder, under a winter sky.