the trees reach
they always reach
higher even
with nothing really to weigh them down
the bright sky
like her blue eyes
has a coldness
the edge around
there is a cloud streak
or a jet stream
the new day is shaking off its night
there's a couple hundred reasons
and a couple thousand worries
of where she is
if she might
there are birdcalls
and diz cheeks
there's a cello sitting right out here
on church street
that's where the voice fades
yeah
that's where i stay
it's the blue again
just cold enough
to keep
but the dark earth
has its own worth
like the brown eyes
that coffee gave to me
they watch time crawl
right down the back hall
minutes
until eternity
here
the high notes
of his saxophone
are staring at my breath
they beat back ideas
floating through years
just enough sand shift to make me
photo by Charlie Waters
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