Five Turns of the Druid Compass Wheel

We met.

White office lights hummed above us,

your bare shoulder brushed mine;

I breathed you in.

Home found.

She spoke.

East wind brought news of failing joints,

yet her eyes held winter's gale;

she chose each day.

Air moves.

We ran.

Bare skin drank sunlight through the leaves,

we spent the golden hours;

we raced the wheel.

Flame dims.

I watched.

West tide drew her slowly from me,

I called its leaving ebb;

too late, I knew.

Tide turns.

She's gone.

Earth remembers her bare footprints,

moss warms beneath my feet;

I walk her path.

Earth keeps.