The boat went through the water sending a wake
into the nearby houses. I quickly brushed
my leg against the brick-wall, I had brushed
the leaves from the porch earlier. I wake
up to the day from nothing, I awake
to falling rain, to golden dawn, to brush
that sings under the window. Her hair brush
got left on my bed stand, she was awake
the time that I had cried. I had to trust
that she had heard me, I'd removed the hoops
of her earrings before bed. The lament
of lovers filled the trees, the leaves that trust
the air fall quietly, they spin in hoops
toward the ground. The trees do not lament.
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