Daylight

I thought I saw you, your hue,
the paleness of your skin, akin
to silver birches
and all those brittle parts
broken in fields of late summer,
eyes of grain set down. I gathered
that early birthed seed in between
gaps of you and skies and I,
allowed what we were to drift
become kisses on the Sun, char,
decay into dances for rain,
and again devour hills and fox cubs
in the last diluted light before dusk,
- velvet black and stars
no longer sustain. I have
completed work with the darkness,
fallen and risen at her feet.
I have feasted
in that luminous gloom, glad of it,
yet now hunger
for sunrises, by sea,
the ability to give dawn a new name.