Dark strands connect these wings.
Married to flight, we hasten,
speed apart, and watch

The creatures around us die,
see all gentleness pass.
Who designed our union

Felt the pull of hemisphere,
stretched light over emptiness.
Whatever joins, in time,

Will rot, canker, cease. Until then,
this torso of delight weaves, with
loving flesh, our pinions each to each.