When I am late,
find me held to a vine,
hoarding joy in peace,
to be expelled
and timed
into tears to toast
what I have missed—
     you,
not knowing
I’ve not missed it yet
while I am blessed
within you.

     Resting now,
souvenired with prayers,
declining firmaments
your eyes might draw
in dreams:
     designs
not offered to me yet.

Gavin W Sisk
Sept, 2020