Recency
Oct 24, 2020
A poem
Here we cannot boast of foliage
No spectrum of fire dazzles the senses
But tiny ruby leaves dot the moist earth
in Octobers still lush and warm
I first saw them in a terminal darkness
A season without respite
Every known part of me was dying
Sooner than I then realized
Color stopped tempting my vision
Beauty was futile
But the scarlet sequins rose before me like ribbon,
Oxygen, a hand, a tether
The planets, I am told, are in motion
Right now
Adjusting their orbits and rotations
An answer for your disappearance
Do the stars know about Octobers
The names we assign a period of time that repeats
And yet never occurs again
