We dangled…

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We dangled
From insistent shadows
With unciform fingers.

Leapt across yawning
Interstices of moments
Barely closed in on themselves,

Knee-deep in molten latticework
We may adjourn here
For the while.

We recall stories of
Nascent stones, completely dry
And brittle to the touch.

We will eat them,
And will roll about the
Contours of these meadows

Awash in the coolness
Of a dawn sanctified
By its own forgetfulness.

Art: “Snow in October”
Tom Thomson

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