I stole his flip flops

and the last bit of wine

in the bottom of the bottle

so I could tip toe to the patio

sit and watch the schools

of fluffy white clouds

swim slowly by

occasionally providing a

picture window for the

soon to be full moon

to peer from

It is for this companionship

as well as the human kind

that I have

come here

left the cold damp north wind

behind

though home for many years

this wind was not in my blood

nor his

his blood still flows from the desert

austerity and silence

define him

yet this moist penetrating warmth

causing everything to grow

at amazing speed

enters his heart

allowing it to find

a new rhythm

mine beating

once again with less

constraint

Here

the green shoots emerge

beside

the demolished broken husks

causalities of a few

too cold winter nights

yet it all returns to life

strong and certain of its trajectory

even when our doubting

human minds believe it to be

impossible