friendly which way?

your spine carries fruit,
blossomed,
and still blossoming

deeply within the root,
it is rumored
that winter is clinging

on a walking by,
we decide to harvest
children springing
deeply into the sky

you with
kodak,
stealing only
the slower components
of their souls

while my scythe
cuts everything,
surgically looking
for pi

I grind my teeth
to keep from chattering
further,
and you seem sated
on this silvered moment

we walk on,
with your pace slow
and sleepy,

this is where I learn
that evening
is not always so much romance
as one would think
when it begins

and later,
you burrow
down into the phone
lines,
laughing with some masculine
voice,
leaving me here,

I'm not transmitting,
receiving
but I am watching
the hyperactivity of
seasons play within
the colour of your hair

and I'm wondering
about a few strands
that are touching your ear,
having escaped
from the rest
you've pulled back

what is this slightness of white I see?

something reminds me of...

_____________
-shadowchild
-------
more outwardly tender than usual, though with a few harsher truths hidden in there I think ("while my scythe/ cuts everything,/ surgically looking/ for pi"). touching and warm.
m