Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Drawing to a Close

The scent of the blackberries along the footpath
Has shifted this week, from fresh to fermented
Syrupy wine in my nose, soon to be lost for another season.

I watch evening commuters lined up at the stoplight,
The tired reflection of a day's work, done but probably not finished,
Carried home in the lines of strain around their eyes.

Clinging to my dog's fur, crumbled seedheads of field grasses
Turned a rich golden brown by the low slanting sun
Which I sadly notice setting sooner each day.

The motions one makes after a well spent evening, subtle changes
In the tone of voice, the body’s movements, shifting clues towards
An ending to alert the host: it is time to walk to the door.

There, I’ve opened it, letting the lingering scent of our dinner
Drift out into the darkened street. I suppose come October,
All of this will be relegated to memory, including the sound of your laughter.

Painting: Side Door, Mixed Media by James Kimak

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