Bird's Song

Fall is ours.

Or, is it fall at dawn

late heat and us

in a lush red leaf?

I think of you here

red rocks on a lawn

in mid day pools of sun.

I lean on your arm

walk at your side

a cold hand in warm

and feel you grin

with soft fawn eyes

that see the blue jay

in a tree of gold dust.

I knew that well-hid

one back home,

her chip-chip a near

loss upon the wind.

But she was real, once.

We are a song in your car

hot seat and bare leg

deep in new talk

and a ride home.

This is the zeal

that will come

in the moon pass,

one and two, then you,

a soft wisp, said

in the cusp of a doze

upon your bed.

“I love you.”