The way we walked
Sunrise rolled on the brick sidewalks, and it cantered
beside us through the thick spun river fog. We walked arm-in-arm
toward the scent of Sunday coffee, crossword aromas.
The convergence of robin's hops on the path
marked the moment when lead tinted morning fed
hungry mouths, you looked away
clenched, the beak wrenched victory from the dirt
and the head snapped back. The hill still
crests and descends, where we etched stones with our heels
measured our lives, tallied the times we walked
the distance home from the coffee shop until
we couldn't anymore.