The Last Hours

The sky clears

suddenly

as the year quietly closes her door

and we count our blessings--

everything we’ve lost.


We scramble,

shuffle,
sift

through the dust

of another year,

as if we’ll not get another,

and the honest truth

will be found

staring us in the face
eye to eye,

breath into precious breath,

as the sun awakens to new day.


For now,

it is enough

to place a hand
on the warm skin

of your breast;

chest rising and falling,

and feel
the loneliness
of a solitary heart.


For now,

it is enough

to notice the last hours

of silence and wine

and remember all

that will be left at the altar

of longing for endless

heavy days of all this humanity.