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