Dazzling emptiness of the black green end of summer no one
running in the yard pulse pulse the absence.

Leave them not to the empty yards.

They resembled a family. Long quiet hours. Sometimes
one was angry sometimes someone called her 'wife'
someone's hair receding.

An uptick in the hormone canopy embodied a restlessness
and oh what to do with it.

(How she arrived in a hush in a looking away and not looking.)

It had been some time since richness intangible
and then they made a whole coat of it.

Meanwhile August moved toward its impervious finale.
A mood by the river. Gone. One lucid rush carrying them along.

Borderless and open the days go on—