272 van gogh

there is warm rain outside
and yet the air smells of      burnt amber
like the smokes of fall that were absent
returned late, burdened,
baked with heat and dribbling through a gully

and the wind whispers, still and small
not in the pines like all the songs
but in my hair
curling around me
like hazel sounds.

the light falls
and today that is
almost enough
even as everything is cast
yellow
and orange

the concrete pebbles in the driveway with rain,
not yet changed,
not yet transformed by the changing pressures
and the rotation of the sun.
no,
today
the rain dulls color instead of saturating it,
saturating the absence instead
in the waiting
for the earth to loll around
and the sun to rise and warm the planets bones
like the air fortastes and promises
(a handshake in the mind).

there is nothing
but everything is there
cumming.

unsplash - 272 dull

For Further Reading
272: to Theo van Gogh

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