Thoughts in the cold
Thoughts in the cold
You are gone. The river is high at my door.
Cicadas are mute on dew-laden boughs.
This is a moment when thoughts enter deep.
I stand alone for a long while.
…The North Star is nearer to me now than spring,
And couriers from your southland never arrive–
Yet I doubt my dream on the far horizon
That you have found another friend.