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through their orbits.

III. Totality

Now it’s nearly dark as night

in the middle of the afternoon,

the air as still as the interval

between breaths.

A few feet away a squirrel sits, tail flitting,

and I think how wonderful

that in our short lives on this planet, we get

to experience this together

and unexpectedly, I begin crying

at the unimaginable marvel of this moment

and I’m almost ashamed

until I glance sidelong

and Sylvie is wiping tears

from behind her glasses. A tear strays

down her cheek and I reach over

and with my good hand brush it

away as gently as though

it’s a raindrop fallen

on the page of a book.

IV. Third Contact

Now the taken light

returns, saffron as if filtered

through the smoke

of some great fire that

lays bare a forest so that new

things can flower.

Sylvie Brave, Pt. 2

Fourth contact. Or when the light