She watched as
starlight tangoed with
earl gray dawn, and
pink cotton clouds
dripped
down the horizon line.
The crickets trembled,
kissed the dewy blades
of grass, then
departed, underground, or
into the oak trees.
And she folded her bare
knees toward her chest,
clutched them
tightly while a sun-
flower scented breeze
tickled the hairs on her arm.
The pale moon faded
into azure morning and
each constellation
evaporated into
wispy white clouds.
So she gathered her
belongings, but left
the letter –
it’s buried there,
beneath the sprawling
autumn foliage,
waiting
for you to resurrect it.