Although we speak, now, to each other in new waysbrwe can still meet here, I think. We always have.brRain outside, my sky all whites and grays;brthis week the leaves have started coming down.brI’m not sure where—a sea away, one hour—bryou’ll be right now; outside, I’m sure, a hike.brBut I watch you, with a single, hedge-discovered flowerbrfill the tiny brown clay vase you love,brand move across my room, unspeaking, as I write,brand bend, like you have done, to two candlesbrstanding in the fireplace, to give them light.