From the collection Contingency Plans
(TS Poetry Press 2010).
Might you have noticed in its gloaming way
from mild, July translucent haze, the crisp,
deciduous, great silhouettes against
the firmament in darkened foliage trysts?
The noonday demon, cooled to tepid lisps
incomprehensible enough that we
can pause and hear the widened leaves all hiss
above his fervent muttering ennui.
Rejoice, again, my tired, doleful soul.
Rejoice, yet, even while tonight grows cold.
David Wheeler is a poet from Seattle who blogs at davewritesright.blogspot.com.