DAWN

The sky looks around 5 a.m.

[anything can deceive you though]

I hear his feet press into the wet ground beneath me

He holds me in his cupped hands

Deep like ladles

His boots suction into the mud 

It pulls him in with dependency

Desperately

Then releases him like wind as it really has no choice 

I listen closely like I do the rhythm of crickets at night 

Decoding their language

And it seems to be the same message as the rhythm of his body