A Grass Midmorning

The students all left town.

The moon is smoking cigarettes again.

You breathe,

The drop which clings

Onto the bottom of the berry,

A broken wilderness,

A month without a rain.

The hall is heavy with the scent

Of bubbling lentil chili.

The cat we still don't know

Who owns

Is rubbing down the walls.

A folk song is crawling its way

Across the ceiling.

You say the days have weight,

But life is not so long.

You need someone to push you in.

- 11/19/25