love is as absolute as death is,

and neither bears false witness to the other

- Al Purdy

once a year we mined for mica

mosquitos swatted and slapped

index fingers picking at quartz

thumbs turning over fallen chunks

we would climb

the short mound

next to the frog pond

where the moose come

at first light

to drink

I plan to wake in time to see

but when I open my eyes: the sun

I bring you here in the wide afternoon

vibration of the day and your presence

join the buzz of the cicadas in my ears

I bring your attention to the flakes

shining in the high light

we never touch but we are together

cherishing the rare discovery of

having something

in common

you and mom fight all year

for two weeks of peace

you did not know the future weight

of thick memories unable to be recreated

in my mind I see the glint

flecks scratched and pealed

pure joy of looking while not looking

at you: tinted and smiling

each time I visit you here

the brightness dims

I wait all year to catch a glimpse

how heavy and brittle these thin pieces have grown

when I think of us there and close my eyes: light