Last night, after we saw you both,

a thrush came to our sill.
Wild for light – her eye

striking at the glass –
for a sea was at her side.

She crouched as if to rest –
then dived. And I
may never rest again

in what is real to me, the known,
having touched small distances

impassable as worlds’.
Brick by brick, I have stroked

the rough wall
of your mind at its remove –

warm, unthinkable
and near.