At 9:15pm
the sky is midnight.
I wonder if the hue
I perceive
of dusk-darkened leaves
is really just a color memory
trick of my brain.
I threw hasty words
over my shoulder
before heading out
of the stiff white walls
into the invisible
air moving the grass
to whisper.
It didn’t rain.
I wish it would.
My eyes pull water
from the well
of my shadow story
and I am washed away
until i am renewed.
