date night
painting her lips
Netflix red
 

Nature Narration

The oak has exhaled its last long breath of the night
tripping the cricket switch.
They sing as if they know their time is near.
If only I had a prayer for the yard trees
surrendering everything.
A chant to give back to the insects.
A way of letting the world know I am listening.
Grateful for these nights before the first hard freeze.
Like the surge in energy my mother gave us
not long before she died. Her old self sitting up
carrying on. Eyelids heavy as if someone
had forgotten to wind the clock key.
The world neither changed nor falling apart.
All of us back to old routines. Just like we were told
growing up—tomorrow is another day.
And now is no time to hang all your hopes.

the sky in my voice
a morning greeting
to a passer-by