Train baring down on the ex-lover
Like a shell casing: silver coffin.
He hasn’t told her yet, still he
Summoned her here. And so
Onto the old meeting-place.

Careless gestures, there follows a
Long walk. Down the trail that
Speaks clearer left undisturbed.
After all, the nature of things.
The light bright though lacking luster
Refracted through the tangled cords
Of ivy, tree limbs -

A festival of dead leaves.
Warmed mud envelops soles
Engorging them like bloodrush
As a half-loving couple trek on.
It feels like autumn when spring comes

As winter is bowing out again.
He feels that way two, three
Times a year; wishing it remained
Taunting circularity, he plods on.
No escape.