his hands
watch his hands, then
his eyes – a wordless
question, a clue
in the distances: relativity
him to me
from here to … where?
a merging of neutrals, non-colours
of winter: soft duns, muted bone
sparrows on concrete, dirt-naked
trees against the sky
us against ourselves
shades of the dead: the dull, the defeated
all things blurred, a blinded sun
pale, white on grey
earth beneath leaves
brittle, fallen
crushed underfoot