A ritual with friends,
an open meadow under
a night sky, lying back
tracing stars as clouds divide
and uncounted winds
slip away
we inherit
the oblivion,
nourishing curiosity
as the orbits of eyes
absorb the greatness.
Slowly, with hesitation,
we leave a memory of
footprints
and the dampness of
our words,
until once again together.
Roger Singer 