Travels and travels

A point on the circle.

The season of expecting.
Delicate excitement, precise plans. Burning
things and counting hours. Smell
approaching peak for
youness, candle just before the start.

The season of arriving. The days
of here, of time and stories
Unreturned calls and proper meals.

One next, not lately
blush of coming turns to
being, and the season opens
spaces. Other people, sleep
at different times.

Then again season of leaving.
Rapid pack and run for planes.
Calmness shaped
hole in the universe.

Soon resigned and calling
friends. Season of running,
waking early, working late.
Hidden rites of girly grooming.
Wondering on civil war,
Watching news of airplanes
lost over the sea.

This is the most familiar season
secretly suspecting I am
better far away.
Deep reserves of waiting
day by day following
you moving back and forth
and far away.