LATE WINTER

all this effort resisting the time spiral 

while love grows like moss 

in the shadows 

waiting for the earth to move 

stars to come around 

forgetting what can be wiped away 

with a soft rag, an impulse 

meanwhile we circle back 

remembering, imagining 

retracing our steps to figure out why 

how much longer 

answers retreating like the exact time of sunset 

every day a little longer than the last