Before words in the night the snow the distance each flake falls and the way we remember if God or no God and nothing matters in the soft gentleness of fall fall and wind without end we fall and each time time forgets we remember the litany of words and memories and words before we spoke them or thought them and somewhere again we're alone and the waves recede and pull, the time before Hail Mary crossed your lips again and again and even as you age the words remember the shape and touch and feel of your lips and holy sounds erupt or echo or moan this time you feel each word and each word sounds clear distinct itself and still the memory of time after time just the beads dangling your hand holding strings of beads black and smooth against the quiet sins and time you wore lightly on each finger crossed bands of gold shining pale against a setting sun.