Early evening sun/ Caught under the arches/ Words stuck in my throat
Fall comes on too strong/ Branches up in summer’s skirt/ Before she thinks no/
Chickadees, snowshine, tourmaline skies; Blue jays, jack pine, solitude mine.
I. Shady Lane barefoot at twilight we play Ghosts in the Graveyard vanishing in dark II. Rook cards slap on the porch after-dinner Manhattans kids drunk with freedom III. Beckoning June is ever-dusk fireflies wink in gangly grass as I pedal home
Dark spreads like blood pooling beneath the bruised skin, but warm – Or as though the earth is an eye, lids closing slowly and shadowing inward, And in this swelling night, in this place slowly cooling to the touch, The air compressor blasts and growls, channeling breath into the long-resting tires, So they may ride … More Dark Rides