& THE FALL OF SUMMER IS A WINTER SPRINGTIME
now the sun feels like a flickering flame
again, one last summer afternoon flung from a candle
the same speed thunder runs from a storm
i wake up cuddled against an open window
again, & the fall of summer seems certain now
how could we ever let ourselves stray from love
like this, w/all those coffee cups of cider left to drink
in brooklyn, on snowy doorsteps in december
i’ve saved cinnamon sticks in a cupboard above the sink
for this, i’ve studied the art of flying home again
& california confuses birds looking for direction
she shakes & she shudders in passion & passives
i cannot be held to the ground by its grasses
i’ve learned from the sea to dissolve my distractions
