Invincible summer |||

Quatrina: Autumn

Even when walking in a park, the trees mock softly; 
and taking your hand across city blocks to squeeze 
some mercy from a dry and ragged sky, I understand 
that still this autumn nothing has been completed. 

Dry pages fall from the trees, their readership completed. 
Even when I find myself in the dark mirror you softly 
hold to me in beds, I cannot fail to understand 
the argument of failure. At dawn, the heart’s squeeze 

tightens on despair and you think it will not squeeze 
again nor loosen till you have completed 
one more day without gain. I did not understand 
that we could be so strong and lose the world so softly. 

You cry softly by the fire: tears squeeze out onto your hand. 
Still this autumn nothing’s been completed; still I understand.