unaware and aware

we are unaware

and aware

of many things. the light

wind pushing

the cold

upon our wrist as 

we reach

for buttons.

the weight of things, 

the lightness

of a stone,

the gallon jug

that we lift,

heavier this year

than last.

we say nothing, but our

body knows.

and us,

the gradual distance,

once love,

that goes

unspoken as it

separates and grows.