Unfurrow an eyebrow
Lie on pine needle bed,
A pond to the left,
Peach trees on the right,
Standing like martyrs
Whipped by the wind,
their scent bleeding in the air,
cracking your mirrors.
Clouds safety pinned to the sky
whisper behind your head.
The tadpoles aren't the only ones choking.
Staring back at you, unrecognized,
not by choice, but by accident,
the only friend left, rippling in the gossamer scarf.
And time pulled the rug on you, do you regret it?
And what did you do when it rained?
You filled the pond with native tears,
built the calm waters where your nose hovers,
and despite your efforts, have nothing to show
but upward, empty palms crying to the sky,
a dry plead to set free your gaze.
The only thing louder, screaming against
the rattling leaves, is the silence,
an old friend you thought had left you.
Foolishly you welcome it,
set it down by the hearth,
ask where has it been,
what other lovers has it known.
You warm tea for two,
and set out enough blankets for the year,
clinked glasses and wished each other well,
warmed by the fire, settled for the hard winter ahead.