Honest Air
The air is crisp and cold again,
Has lost its languid indeterminacy.
Here, we can be honest again.
No more distracting small talk,
Sharing a sultry August air
Warmed by our feral lungs.
No more dawdling in fields
Pretending we have all summer
To figure it all out
Honking geese fleeing
South, squirrels gathering
Nuts, trees reclaiming their peripheral
Green, a world in a rush to finish up,
To store up all that’s left
Before the first frost calcifies
Our living ground to cold bone
And ices to stillness the arterial flow
Of our shallow brown river.
Each breath now is a stinging
Rebuke of frigid austerity.
My eyes widen.
Nothing is hidden
In this crystalline simplicity.
I am fully awake,
Distilled of all illusions.
There is nothing to fear
Here, and nothing left to rue
Here, I don't wear a coat.
Hands go numb
And lips turn blue.
Each brief breath can be counted
As a series of tiny evanescent clouds.
I watch my body shiver.
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