it could be just a matter of evening.
An afternoon holding night at arm's length
before easing her into the ground.
A walk where dusk is coming quickly,
surrounded by plum trees. Fortune, a stray cat following you home.
Even if you don't believe
wisdom can be just what it sounds like,
a memory with a shadow curling into itself.
Familiar hands at the end of mystery limbs.
Consider the end a becoming dark,
not exactly, but getting there.
Forever falling, never landing.