I can’t forget that day the hummingbird
darted through the snow – you slept through it –
content with the dogs in a patch of morning sunlight,
which found and stroked the red-gold stubble on your cheeks
the way I wished that I might without breaking your sleep
I could watch (have watched)
that pine for hours
and the purple sand cherry –
currently slowly balding
seeing the yellowing
of the locust leaves
always makes me feel
just a little bit wistful
leaves that in a few weeks
will blow away to wherever,
leaving me here with
an unending view of rain
of streetlights and drainpipes
and that black shadow pine –
sometimes with crow,
but oftentimes no
hot tea, a splash of whiskey,
open window, open book –
a secret home remedy
for wistful
© Sarah Whiteley
I swear I’m really not feeling this melancholy – I love the fall. I think this is in part due to lack of sleep! Two nights in a row with almost none – perhaps hot tea with whiskey is a remedy for that as well?
ebbtide 