So far the nights feel lonelier than the days.

In light, the living keep me company,

and memories of voices through the years.

Each summer threads a green familiar maze.

Emerging sun-struck, you can barely spy

the slow kaleidoscope of clouds and hours.

Those flannel nightshirts chilly sleepers wear

as summer wanes: I'm giving them away.

Pass it on: you keep at the same time.

A bough has broken from the Duchess tree.

Rain swelled the apples. Too much lightness weighs

heavy: the heft of the idea of home

tempered with the detachment of a dream,

or tidal pulls, like ocean, like moonrise.