oh and Adam, its ok.

The almond branch trees dip in the dark warmth.

A scythe of wind stirs the silence.

I watch as the moonlight pools in shadows,

And house lights on the black water stretch like redemption.

Tomorrow, the light will steep

This moment pale

And even the thought of it will not feel the same.

I wrap it round my finger, and sing an old refrain.

It reminds me of another good thing gone.

Even in the midst of happiness

We sense the end, and are sad.

We speak of things that were not meant to end,

And name them bittersweet.

The warm fruit resting in our Father’s hand

Was good, and was evil.

The warm fruit resting in our Father’s hand was tasted.

So for now, we must taste both.

For now the sweet, must be bitter

the bitter, sweet

though we can to choose to linger on the sweet.

(another older one)