The Stone Remains Silent Even When Disturbed
In whose tongue
do you dream?
I fall closer to death
than birth, yet
the moon’s sliver
still parts the bare
branches and an unfilled
trench divides the
ground. Bit by bit,
we separate – you
remain in the earth,
recumbent, as I gather
years in stride.
Even the rain
leaves us alone.
This first appeared in December 2015.
O at the Edges 
This is a surpurb title, Robert!
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Thank you. I’m not sure how it emerged, but it did. 🙂
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Ah, looking at moon through bare branches last night late (a bit fatter, but very similar image!) Would I want to survive eons like the moon? I think not.
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I don’t think I could take the battering!
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