Thursday, November 15, 2007
The rain stains their gathered thighs
charcoal-black, like any number of
dryads lying back on one another,
grown as one, to wear fire-hair.
November and the trees look
more like balding men with
silvered orange mutton-chops.
Someone pasted yellowed leaves
and lamplight to the sidewalks.
Such joy to find my childhood--
browned grass and conifers--
replaced with Virginian opulence.