the green is gone

september 2020

a nascent wind gives back the smoke

from my drawn apart lips

trees rustle with summer's last life 

dancing in their limbs 

 

that was the last day i saw a green 

like the one below your brow

just an evening foreshadowed that the days to come brought calling crows 

 

and cold


 

cold without your arms to draw ahold

as the bath water left standing when i found you out    ..cold on your mattress 

and warmed you with a quilt

 

that day left me cold

 

as the hydrangeas in your grandmother's garden the early brisk of fall 

beginning to wilt