it tastes like cinnamon and mango
spicy and sweet

the piano rolls like wheels over cobblestones
the saxophone smiles, slow and mellow
the percussion lazily tsh-tsh-tsh's its way to the edges of my room

i imagine my desk lamp as a fireplace
my stool as a weathered armchair
my coffee as some hot chocolate

for a moment
my apartment is a cabin in the woods
and christmas is not that far away

i crave the space
between summer and fall
when the world is paused
before dying

when our breaths stand still
in the morning chill
but they dry in afternoon lighting

how i love the way
that the land betrays
her own body
because we know how she's trying

to hold on to the hands
during summer's last dance
before winter becomes the horizon

the shadow crept in
slowly

it is hard to remember
the moon was
hurtling at 2,288 miles per hour
in space, silent

the colors
desaturated
like a sepia filter
on your photos app

suddenly
the diamond ring and then
a halo of pure light
for four minutes

a 360 degree sunset
complete with crickets