Under cover of darkness I make the journey into the pines. I stand beneath you, silent and listening to the soughing of the wind in the trees. Above me you swing, a darker shape. Nothing happens for long minutes. I imagine you are here with me, that the warmth is in you. You speak and I run the back of my hand against your cheek. Of course, you are here, but you are not with me, and the warmth has leeched from your body. I turn and leave through shadow. Knowing you are still there, swinging in the breeze.