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
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