Tuesday, November 13, 2012


for Scott

The Earth pulls back now,
braces against the shake and rattle of limbs
 when leaves gather thick along the fences
and salmon with their cold fungal
sores drift spent in the sheltered gullies

Know that life lets go before renewal,
feeds itself on the grey days and heaves
the splendid memories, always the cycle
of things spinning in your eyes

You are the closest to the restoration,
arriving in the world when Spring’s promise
was asleep in the brooding woods