The Only Upshot

Rain beside grass, broken rabbits, and all morning the dog chasing robins through the wet leggy asparagus. The mountain difficult before light back gracefully. Apples bleed green fire seeking roots.

White circle above crows between that eggshell hour of day. Goose eyes, too. The hunger out back, that fading scree.

The pulpit was like dying off to a grim beyond. At dusk, a cell phone, a robin's egg sky. Remember what it feels like and you'll never be alone!

Rocking chairs on a back deck nobody sits on anymore. My daughter offers old friends the cities of the world. Besides love, sleeping with you that summer was the only upshot.

Halfway up the curves past the talus. Underfoot, nobody. A string in summer unimpressed with cult worship.

Loosestrife in rain off a river disappearing overhead. Ten thousand songs filling empty bottles, your brown tattered sweater. Where pieces everywhere wonder at noon can I say to hell with it and drink again hard?

For a long time there was only the idea of you. Over tea, your eyes were there with me, ignoring the weather.