Horse tails swishing flies in late summer. Cumuli tower overhead, dreamy and full of rain that won't fall until somewhere else, another time.
Dragonflies over the garden, swallows over the horse pasture. Sudden - welcome - drops in temperature.
My shoes! Apples thumping in tall grass and clover bunched around deadfall gathered in a pile.
It makes sense, doesn't it. Making plans later to watch the Perseids, remembering Vermont years ago, making love beneath the Perseids, all night the light shining on you.
And the grackles gather now into flocks, and by the swamp the early maples begin turning. All of what is alive in us now.
Borrowed jackets, borrowed ties. I remember taking my Dad's down vest a couple years after he died and finding two acorns in the inside pocket.
Her breath hitches masturbating. Ordinary days pass becoming more so.
Down past the feeder brook a fox yelps. Sunflowers are the color of something other than the sun.
I am lost now, but it's okay, as I've been lost before. Hospital gowns, hospital blues.
One waits on bad news as one can. Plans dissolving like salt in a river.