Walking the fields gathering evergreen and vine
remembering how we’d wander directionless
picking flowers and sticks to feed the hungry stove and whatever else caught our eye.
We’d fall to the ground after a while as two animals out wandering should
easy in our bodies.
How you’d quiet the demands of the world.
Together we’d lay there, letting the almost-winter wind lick us.
Instead of running indoors, letting our eyes dance over all the brown and changing things.
My eyes mostly dancing over golden you.
Yours playing back centuries of wild fox tales behind eyes that glowed with a knowing beyond your years.
And now I weave and walk and remember, wrapping memories of you around me like bronzed amulets warding off the reality of your physical absence away from mine, like a thick fur sheath protecting me from another season without you.
I walk and weave and remember so I don’t ever forget my babies dancing together out beyond the sun.