The spring sky above ragged cypress
bleeds intense purple and orange.
A pair of owls perch in the elm tree
outside my window, quietly croon.
From chill darkness, mated hawks circle,
scream and search for invisible prey.
Two time zones west, trees blossom.
I stroke myself, imagine your face.
The night is empty; words elude.
What I crave isn’t here; another poem slips away.