For Her, every day would be Autumn
Reading Baudelaire in a big padded chair
on a deck overlooking a tree lined midwestern street she loves
walking to the park chasing leaves blowing in the wind
colored kites streaming, hawks and diamonds
Can these days last forever?
writing words in a leather journal
dressing in forest greenery
making masks with overgrown foliage
one long dream
filled with moments of lovely waking
what world reality do you choose to inhabit
sleeping for half of life
marking time with wit
I sang to you last night
you might not have heard it
to you and all other natural wonders
to the mountains
to the breeze

full moon of my soul,
rise