She missed the mornings when hello was the first thing on his mind

the soft dawn breaking just beyond the tall redwoods seemed so dark of late

With the shadows resting without dancing
in heart shattered left in pieces on the wormwood floor

overcoming the light temporarily

She thought of how in earlier days his hands could hardly get enough of her

Now, it seemed, he fumbled mumbling

and played a role wearing masks

Gentle good graces finding ways lost longing lasting

Crashing onto the forest floor like

shaken pine cones loose from thimbled gnarled branch

outstretched for something more than the less of late

Ebbing far and few between now

those hellos seemed empty and forced

She found sitting now on the deck of her abode alone

save for the birds and sleepy bees with wings pollen sticky

heavier among hum of season’s first pounding rain

her lover though laying near and resting

miles away drifted by the pushing of her erratic mood pining for balance

the way she once was before after beginnings honey and moonshine

riding this sea of sorrow with its steely coldness upon her skin though culpable in palpable discomfort though oh so familiar this boned handling cutting like a well forged buck knife with stains and divets

Taunting her happiness like a jester in court near curiously laughing to himself, a bluejay sits screeching and cackling watching over all of this just a joke of all jokes

Only she was no longer laughing