Monday, September 21, 2009

false autumnal

The broken light bends

beyond the horizon line,

coloring the trees and eaves

that just drowned shade

somewhere before water,

somewhat to the left of cement.

There is an aquarium air

to every action, from

children racing traffic to

the submerged flight of crows.

A stillness mingles

a solemnity dowsed with shadow

as summer swallows gravel for ballast,

mouthing oaths and epitaphs

all hindered without wind.

This fire line bled of cheap architecture,

the sun giving one last glance

to sustain these dreams of days.

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