jitters before traveling sound like a key turning in its door 

left and right and you know, one way you are locked in;

the other opens you to all. now here we are.

my fingertips aching for mountains, lakes, 

places only we know that go on memorising you: 

evenings with orion’s teeth glimmering, 

days of scaled-back hillsides so wildly hungry at its calm.

it all went just like that, 

                   and we remain a little unhappy

                                                             as usually in love.