Before the Storm

The electricity
that is summer
has moved from the air
thick with fireflies
into the wings of angels
and the black crickets
that hop and play
in the dried leaves
of grass.

What was summer hums
and sparks at pink dawn
before the storm of fall
announces itself
in frost and furry of winds
not seen
in my lifetime.

You have traced my soul
with your fingers
in this sweetness
and the single steady note,
this simple touch,
sustains me.

A kiss
to my neck
awakening me
from my silence
in this empty nest.