Rain brings a cooler air | Young ghosts come out | from under the trees | shyly | show me their watches and clocks | Time seems | so important to them | Some are | still shocked | and merely follow the others | Slowly, all grow absorbed | in the hands and faces | so much so, that when | I come to | tip-toe away, they hardly | notice…

After the rain, more rain, then even | hints of autumn | My body in your kiss | floats and lengthens | the floor | grows bare | it makes sense | and our shadows | are thistledowns | You dress, and leave | I glance at my watch | the calmed | furore of the sheets | the ceiling with its | map of cracks | my watch again | the drowsy flowers | outside | the line of trees | After the wedding, the guests disperse | Later, rain brings a cooler air

 

from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)
(this poem, July 2013)