red in tooth and claw

red bleeding into the edge of leaves
weight
snapping the stem

the words to speak
the language of the trees
isn't there

is it the abandonment of love
that allows these trees to let go?

never knowing
if what we see as vibrancy
is the pain of thousands of deaths
pieces of the self
falling, decaying
year after year
only to be raked away

talking about the weather

i can see you
standing at the window
veined hand cradling the phone
unsure of what to talk about
except what is familiar
what you can see
the elements of your day
elusive
pill bottles left untouched
bills not paid
slipping out of what you can know
and remember

delighted to hear my voice
you speak of what you know
the corn in the field across the street
the leaves covering your lawn
as they do year after year

the season arriving just on time
reliable
you know
you can always talk about the weather

i am thankful for the world
not for it's beauty
not because it is intrinsically good
or deserves any attention on its own
but because for this one moment
my grandmother
has become alive
and regained control
through the red hues of autumn

Generosity

What is life if not generosity?
With the drink and with doubts,
a whole-hearted abandon to the expanse of sadness
letting go
when all your body wants is a tight, inward frugality.

To cut loose from other's eyes,
knowing that you
and you alone
have spent the greatest, most fluid and alive
time with yourself.

Allowing yourself to make mistakes.

To dump money like the paper and abstraction it is,
and to let its weight spread.

What is life if not generosity?
An excess of vulnerability,
in the dark and cold and uncertain places
where you must be patient
if anyone is ever to find you.

Playing your music too loudly.
Overstaying your welcome.
Holding onto that library book after it is due.

Gifting your being to all things that are bright
and compelling
easy and legs wide
limitless.

Generosity, as becoming.
Not born
fully formed and unwilling
but refolded minute by minute
by the sticky hands
held open by love.

What is life if not generosity?
Overuse of the snooze
and an abundance of space
for dreams to roam.