I walk but don’t breathe.
Phlox had already finished
what they started,
extracting enough nitrogen
for a night.
The river glints like
untimely fireflies.
So this is how it is –
the shock of a breeze
brushing through dry marrow,
the first rude awakening
into light and color?
Shadows of green,
brushed with violet,
search for each other
within me.
Cold light tickling my head,
I become the day of the river
at night.