distance has its own song

I think about you in the freshwater of

ancient landscape where my hands

hold things older than the first sunrise. 

If the sound of waterfall could

reverberate across canyon maybe

I could send a song to you.

We could be two wings of the same bird

together but never directly touching,

a melody of temporal longing.

There are eight eagles in the sky

tracing time round like a circle,

with no concept of distance.

Like us. 

Perhaps we are birds in this story

and not just the wings.