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

Green is Gone

 September 2020