hangs heavy over some dreary summer
evening, post storm, and murky.
You are the cloudy unresolved spaces
between tree branches;
the black brown rain stains making tree bark
dark and malleable to my touch.
You are the decaying maple leaves
stuck to a suburban swimming pool’s surface,
floating through the season ice cold
and self-consuming.
You are a sight that says,
no need to worry—after this
it’s all over; frozen.
You make me feel like the sun going down
all around these places.
I am the shrinking light
that clings to the last hour of everyday
saying—no, please don't go.
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