Woke, and instantly fell
into the morning like a fever.
A fever so beautiful and vapid,
I wanted to grasp it with my fingers
like tree branches reaching
out to touch the intense green
of a summer morning in appalacia
dripping with rain showers.
Some robins who refused to fly
in a sky that more resembled the sea
reminded me that this morning was the
last I would spend with you until
we collided again. A realization
that made the fever strip everything
away except the thought of you leaving.
The fever rose as we walked the path
of an almost silent conversation.
Like aging lovers, we took words
for granted and basked in the proximity
we were about to loose.
As we sat and watched rain water
puddles form on the ancient wood of a deck,
I was reminded that as the rain will surely return
to the sea, the moment you arrived, I knew you would have to leave.