85 degrees and dozing from the cough syrup
evening, too cool for the end of summer in the south
only one of us complains

where do we go from here
but back to where we always go?

the comfortable and the comforting
maybe it’s not so bad or the end

we’re here listening to frog songs
you can call mourning or jubilee
it doesn’t matter if you don’t speak the language
you’re lost in the pull of leaving light

maybe I’m just high from the rising tent of sleep
I tend to like endings
that hand over peace wrapped in swaddling
and ask me to walk gently
for as clumsy as I am
I do fall like feathers when I want to
I want to go gently
the sun, warm breeze
evening, 85 degrees

– Jeanna Paden