This is that time barely-there fog dims finities

inside the ivy-walled border   absolute clarity

Lit fog on an upper gate-arc edge

under falls of branchlets on the verge

you go through   go beyond

into what air-density makes remote

Uncanny   that sense of it   the in-between of it

was – is   long ago – now

born in your body

while inside the outside

migrants seed-picking between the cracks

proclaim not dying   not not dying