Adrift in the day’s current
furled and peeled with burning orange lifting off
paper days we will set aside to wear in another life.
Snakes are speaking out now, spilling tales they’ve
kept to themselves the summer long—recounting stars
and rats in dark redoubts when the red sun rained down.
We leave now these words to do what they will in
some time not yet given to us, the silences between
them, the pauses that give us so few chances to hear.
This was one of loss, of bearing the weight of absence,
setting it down, breathing and eating, holding steady
for some, letting go for others, discovering our true sizes.
It leaves us all too fast. Scorpions are chased across
the low horizon as a triad of light crowns the sky with
triumphs it has yet to earn so early in the season.
We will watch the reflux of time sift backward to
leave us adrift in the day’s current, marvel at the
terrible beauty of it as it strains all belief to bursting.
And we will talk in more amber tones, fill steeped cups,
bring out bigger blankets, prepare for what gathers in colder
circles, all of it arcing gracefully to ensure we use all we have.
September 30, 2013