I manifest in time like
Ektachromes of Evans
and clip the sunlight gold

in a cloudless sky-
surprise as your life
evolves un-told before

the dawn of your own
anxiety, a mystery of weight
(pulling through me)

an anchor of the unknown,
an unidentifiable fear
crossing the room

becomes a fantasy
and so the dream I
dream at night

adorns the day
overcome with vision:
You strafe the cold before,

My love, I wake to you.

© K. James Ribble