SURELY, SURELY
wood-smoke in night-
air, steam of your
breath before
your face pricked
with chills, surely
the tread
of your homecoming
beneath the sky's
vault making its haste
slowly, and surely
the uneven pavement
rising, swing
of your arms
in time
with your feet and
breath, in the road
the cars inch past
each other
and pass on, warm
beasts of the night,
their engines
lowing.
* * *
Dominic
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