I fall into your arms
as the earth's pulse races,
painting our windowpanes with frost
and the kiss of night.
Sleepless, I smell dreams on your breath,
and glancing out of the window
I notice the trees are alive,
whispering lullabies to calm you,
bending their branches towards us.

 

Outside in the garden I join them,
dancing in a twilight world -
more alive with moonlight
than under that pallid sun
that haunts my waking times.
Distantly I seem to hear
the shriek of eagles
carried on a clear mountain breeze;
whale-song, echoing
through black mysterious deeps;
beneath it all, the solemn
thud of your heart. The trees

 

mimick it, shielding you
from the brunt of the wind
that angrily tangles my hair.
Alone by the river, I hear
the weeping willow crying,
'All is dust. All is dust!'
while the moon dries his tears
with her gentle caress.

In from the busy dusk-world
you sleepily pull me to you
and tomorrow you'll tell me
you savoured the smell
of my night wanderings, lightning-sharp,
like the moon reflected
in the eye of a fox.