One more day of sunshine
on the Sound, of empty-minded
wanderings, of crossing
lawns too damp for dreaming
on, deep glades of kelp that
wave below the surface
of the bay, so cold, always
so cold...
One more day of cedars
in the fog, black and gray,
where color used to live,
a robin and a crow assess
the day (no scarlet cardinals sing
on these limbs), remembering
the silky light of June,
a profusion of pastel foxgloves
in her arms, gathered in a
quiet roadside field,
making even strangers feel
at home, until the rains return
and summer's gone.
(c) 2014, by Hannah Six
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