I HAVE TO TILT MY CHAIR BACK
Not too far so as to see only sky
But far enough to see colors falling
In the wind, from the wind through
The high canopy
Which is lifting from the falling
Exposing gray sky.
Thunder rides on the back of the wind
Announces like the too late morning warmth
The change signaled from yesterday’s low arcing sun.
I have to be out here to listen
To the train on the wind,
Wait for the coal train’s
It sounds as if it is riding on tracks transplanted
from Big Sandy riverside to our mountainside.
Why we fear change
Is because we fail to notice
Loud and orange and yellow
And smelling of wood smoke.
I look forward to the loss of
Canopy – many-shaded green.
The sky will not forever remain gray.
Tomorrow with my head tilted so
I may imagine cold and then the snow
and then the new spring green concave dome.