This line moved in and out of my mind for a few days—here’s the now accompanying poem:

It was not what I saw but what gave way…
Not what gave way but what did not…
So the pale moon sets forth
the night so long ago…
When the orange of the streetlamp
spied into our eyes
love-sick, love-flourished
hands becoming a promise…
There were raccoons in trees
and pianos of our childhood…
So the soul
before it knew time…
Given this life, and the next…