Night Hunt

i.m. Michael Jones

Like hunters entering the wood we have come
to the duty-free halls, the perfumes of small flowers –
jasmine, Joy – first steps on our journey to find you again.

So weeks become months on planes and buses and paths
as together we traverse the nocturnal landscape
with one united heart, your band of friends.

Winters are the worst but we believe, like deer who know
that grass is sweetest after frost, that eventually
we’ll find you still at work in your enclosed garden,

that we’ll arrive in time to kiss your failing hand,
your trusting fingers that have planted every seed
and seedling, every leaf-stem once picked out in gold.