Abandoned farmhouse,
greying outbuildings.
Our old elm on the corner
that died last year

stood through the winter
to remind us of its broad
generous shade, kind relief
now removed. Empty sky.

Time unwinds, pulls me
back to your year as sapling
in crowded woods before
this town, this house.

Our kinship holds, deeper need,
as a certain kind of breath.
I bend here on your stump
flattened to the ground.

We re-entwine, vine together.
You remind me, I carry you.
You hold me, I rest upon you.
You become me, I become you.