I believe in the marriage of night and day as I let the hours pass thinking of you.
There’s a quick message my mind transmits to the tree-limbs at night.
I tremble because I care for you.
I tremble like the words tremble inside a jar.
And I look into your eyes—vacant, static— I see myself staring back waiting for your acceptance veiled in hymns; something the nightbirds ought to confess.
My time-feathered will, you know, is long and patient.