languages are ending
melted into each other
for useful reasons; shared
bread, the direction of wind
how close to build the lean-to
and already there’s no word
for the nuance of green
out the back window, no
absolute way to show a spider-
web hung between the spindly
twigs of the hawthorn, tiny pearls
of water on each strand juxtaposed
with the red berries of late fall
and hardly any way to convey
how much I love you with words
