When I am a thousand miles away
and you are seemingly a million more
here where I trade the sun for rain
dwell in the intermittent patches of grey
I distract myself in gardens green
study madala art of spider weaves
decaying, diaphanous maple leaves
the cool of wet mud wriggling around my toes
and yesterday the black birds watching me
disturbingly, the cawing crows
and I could hardly think or speak
as I dialed you long distance on the phone.