October’s breath ferments in the lane

fallen apples tomatoes on the windowsills

& everything’s new again even first things

even bird cry the whitecaps’ swell and lap

our first winter together leaves

blowing our questions scattered at our feet

half-familiar faces slips of paper reminders

stuck between pages found years later

urgent voices in sleepless houses (remember?)

our faces as they once were bright in the darkness

we walked each other partway home partway back reluctant

to give up the dead weight of night

the sweet weariness in our limbs our words

too late our shadows new as ever.

-Colin Morton, from Coastlines of the Archipelago