petal soft whispers

I finally saw the horizon A first in many weeks; blue blankets and cream soda skylines, before increasing darkness pulled wool over day’s last light five o’clock shadows sauntered slowly on day spent suburbia, bowing willows showed servitude and birch rolled back its sleeves the river, barely visible through distant maple ladies and the crows waded softly; black dots on frozen shoreline, walleye running just below there is a waiting in late January; a time keeping of the light when we dream bayou summers settling heavy on our limbs where soppy March will render puddled hopes from grey stacked mountains and when robins march in threes on white grasses frozen, small we’ll let go our winter fashion; no longer gather like the crow, bid adieu to chilled, white cities migrate west with goose down feathers until winter is a memory trapped behind tulip’s soft red lips