In places, say the small lots along the road,
The last rays falls across as a long sigh
This light stretching across the now tall grass
Pulling itself into every last corner
That somehow escaped the day
And every last bit of winter.
Stretching time along with it,
A stubborn tribute, to those long, golden afternoons of Fall.
Maybe.
.
Further down the road,
Beyond the yards, the fields exhale the end of the day
With a late breeze coming up the valley
Sending the tall grass shimmering golden.
Here the day is alive, unsettled.
Big.
.
Overnight came the tall grass,
and this one day the sun came down to meet it.
Yes, the still, golden evening that lasted forever.
What it was like when I was here?
That imagining passed long ago.
.
Here, I’ll let that last breeze carry me to the new fields.
And forget all that lunacy then.
Shaken Rain 