.
A breeze through the window at my back
now that summer has reached its august stage
is cool, and the apple tree outside another window sways
near the purple plum and I as usual bring you coffee
and you’re still here as the cat leaps from floor to sill
still here as crow caws on her breakfast hunt
still here as the conversation of birds begins again
still here as the scent of cut grass seeps through the screen
and I think of all the reasons you might not be:
ones loaded with fear
Your twin, wan and tiny in her big bed,
waned like a slim, moon crescent
but you, her spitting image, remains
still here, still here against odds,
waking, dear as the sun, which is here again
rising, still warming, still here because
what seems temporal is everlasting
as the space between now and then
by Jim Culleny
August 4, 2010
Blink 