The place we go

Creeks run, as leaves rust inexorably into fall and here I see you, delicately by water as a summer might last forever in me
- even as she sleeps

I knew you in a time before this year further* than the hillside, where I walked away
Yet now, the woolly worms are mostly brown like a coat you wear, which gently wears you because it is a softer way to remember her

* and farther

* * *

The Grays and Browns have it

My dad took a lot of photographs of us when we were younger but they weren't usually portrait-type things. Oh, they typically might have been something like my sister and me standing in our hooded carcoats next to an old fallen log or in front of a barbed-wire fence line. Mostly, they were taken against a backdrop of bare trees (which I think he liked better than leafed ones). Maybe it was a bit about form, hope and promise - at least I'd like to think so.

I think at the time, we couldn't imagine this ever having much value.

* * *

Settling my cheek down to invention
Lost in an imagined higher lyric
But selfishly, as usual, I want it to be of me, of mine and spun of my intention.

* * *

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