The rain from earlier in the week had knocked

The rain from earlier in the week had knocked
the red and orange leaves from the branches
of maples and water oaks. I hear the music
of water on the pavement, the soft-wet mud

and the delicate chime sound. I can remember
the way she listened to the stories that I told
and how her breath was warm. I wasn't crying
nor laughing, I don't know what was happening

when I heard the harmonica music and she wore
my cowboy hat in the woods. The yellow color
of the leaves, the movement of the squirrels in

the morning mist. I can remember the feeling
of a January with her, I can hear the music
of the heavens whisper in the leafless trees.