Letters

-Response to Allison Prick's Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?-

Yesterday my boots soaked through,
but this morning the sky holds, grey
standing high choosing not to interfere with tree tops
and falling leaves

I put a letter in the post today,
the usual lines saying I miss you.
That I want to see you again.
You will write back with the same thing
and I will wish you would tell me more
about the color of the leaves,
because somehow your branches are already coated in white.
Somehow your sun falls before it can color the clouds in my eyes.
Somehow we continue to breathe repeated words into static phone lines
moving each other as the world moves beneath us.