with cautious fingers i dig a little closer,
find a little more of what it is i want to find.
just across the table, why
just across a table and some chairs,
you sit there laughing and i
chuckle a bit myself--still at that point
where we're both unsure of what
isn't being said.
this is only autumn, and maybe by the time that winter comes
we'll be sipping cider and hot chocolate from the same side of the table
and you might put your hand on mine and
i might take it naturally.
trying on these different sets of friends,
waiting for a time when you don't have to hide your finer things,
and i wear that expectation like a warm wool sweater
as the leaves begin to fall and perhaps we take a stroll, just the two of us.