all at once it felt like rain
the certainty of it
  
the obviousness of it
the sky deepened

and the air cooled blue to grey
there was a slight speed in the breeze

and it rained

the summer’s first typhoon
almost a week’s worth it would turn out

the clouds uncoiled regathered
and poured all the more

afterwards
the world breathed and steadied itself

ginko nuts
now june green knocked to the ground

hyacinth
great ***** of petaled & powdered blue

i found the snake
coiled green in the weeds

right there
if you knew where to look
  
right there
if you were paying attention

it looked exhausted but its body shined
green upon green

black eyes bright and alive
and on me

what is your           pace
in this world?

what is your           place
in this world?

we knew it all  
would not
  
could not
be the same

it is late august and the crows
unperturbed by the heat
  
and relentless in their work
call and cut the heavy air

with so many arrangements
a gentle applause of wind
  
now through the trees
at the edge of day

little landslides of light
nuzzle long shadows

no longer standing above us
it feels good to be surrounded

by strangers

the tap
and snap of it

shattering the many sides
of the sky

light so tightly twined
and tinted
  
bends along the edge
of autumn fields

early wreaths
of redyellow

on long strings untied
no hint in the wind

no clues hidden
in the clouds

slowly turned
we cross the day unmade

with one last breath
before we wake

beneath the cindering sky
a storm surge pummels

and plumes
onto broken grey stones

waves
in black rages

rip away the skin
of the day

you are shattered
and dragged further

and further from the strand
on a distance cliff

the lighthouse pitches flicks
and is finally lost

black chemical blood
sludges your veins

slowing your heart
fear feeds loneliness

ocean whole
you are swallowed

and sinking the darker down
breathe in the cold silence

peace
peace  
peace
  
be with you

the alchemy
of autumn

tips the colored air
lisps crispy bits

of leaves
listing light

mixes rust
with gold

what hand guides the moonstone?
what hand stirs night’s perfect surface?

why do we always hunger
for the furthest star?

last light hits
the tips of trees
it hangs in the air

and comes to rest
as gold on the leaves  
color pulls from branches

curves in the wind
and scatters
across the pages of the past

hope hovers
like a harvest moon
and whispers
through the dreams of winter

twice
it found its way
 
to our third-floor classroom
arriving shyly

hands in humble veneration
body bright green with grace

it glowed in the afternoon light
one morning

after the first touch of december
i found it

curled cold and flameless  
i held it

to the baptism of the rising sun
i offered it

one final step upon the wind
a perfect leaf drifting down

we make our way  
through the chaos of days

we seek
the sigh of trees
  
we long for moments  
in the listing sun