it was in the hours
between evening and
the fading warmth
of late afternoon
she could feel the changes
of the season
in the way the rain
fell in short,
whispered breaths
against her window

there are no hands
to hold
the creeping silence
the yellow light
of the lamp
nodding an apology
into the strands
of her hair

when did it change-
the twisting
hurry of the snow?
water is pooling
in the grass and
on the dimpled
sidewalk
bleeding light
like an open sore