There is union here. Find circles and shelter.

A telephone ringing. Exchange and gathering.

Warmed beds, filled bellies.

A pushed-back shoulder. A reaching arm.

Do you hear singing? A lone guitar strumming?

Can you reach out a hand across this space?

Whose fingers will catch yours?

Whose eyes share this moment?

There’s a feeling, a brewing,

Who stands beside you here? 

Who leans in, to whisper, arcing their lips

to the curve of your ear?