not soaring but doddering along
		like the woman with white hair
		that she will never never be
		she skates the daylight air
		searching always finding often
		the perfect kiss of honey-sweetness
		untamed worlds in her small eyes
		glitter in the final warmth of Autumn
		dressed in crimson and gold
		yet not the shade for which she hungers
		time is sinking to a crawling buzz
		anticipating the sterile snowfall
		now is her time her only moment
		before the white sky death
		comes to hush away her dreams
		a scent a glance and contact
		lighting to this last soft place
		she probes deep into the sweet dark
		seeking seeking seeking and touching
		the awaiting core of manna
		no thoughts nudge at her
		of her worried mother her fading sisters
		only this her last best taste of life
		and the all-enfolding pinkness

11-8-95