The rain has moved on while he's away
and I listen to the thrum of a
Zimbabwe lullaby played on the mbira.
How still the air, yet there's the
scent of unlit candles; gifts from him
because they remind him of me-
I can't help but smile as I recall,
we were together shopping one day
when he exclaimed, "I smell you!"
Now the last of the empty thunder
rumbles low as I consciously inhale...
I don't have the heart to burn them.