316/365: Tiny Sparks
I will tell you that it's cold outside,
that I had to wear a scarf today,
my hip hitches now with the season,
and it's strange to be getting old.
The last time we saw each other,
we were still a bit green,
and we drank flat draught
and talked about the weather.
You are the one
who caught snowflakes on his tongue
and called them tiny sparks
the first night I learned
that the moon
rose and set
like the sun.