This morning different trees wait for my attention.
I am quiet, absorbed by your touch,
still shimmering on the back of my wrist,
or maybe it’s just my own hair, still platinum from summer,
the color of a lullaby (did you say it or did I?)
. . .
Watch how I turn everything into you-
blue ink on a reciept,
crimson leaves on my car,
open windows I walk past.
I lost my interest in nature,
obsessed instead with touching soft things-
a velvet button becomes the Earth’s vital core, and
while I am there, the leaves changed,
subtle as shifting stars.
. . .
I’m in a new season with you,
free of all I think,
free of remembering,
and I don’t have to tell you anything
because you already know.