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January 2014, vol 9, no 4

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Claire Everett

Burnt Sugar

There was a time when there was always time, no matter what. And what we didn’t have, we made. When summer’s shade was now our path as hand in hand, through the fire and smoke, we’d wade ankle-deep in the sound of water.

a little more sky
in the autumn woods . . .
Klimt’s kiss

There was a time of chestnut, hazel, hornbeam, maple, sycamore and copper beech, of hours cast from watchmaker’s gold, set with rubies.

a spill of rain
from the firethorn . . .
robin song

Tell me there was once a time when you ran and scooped me up like I was so many sun-spun leaves. I knew nothing then of liquidambars, of coming days when autumn would pass me by, a season for others, somewhere beyond the screen; when my fingers would dance lightly across the keys, conjuring images of katsura trees whose heart-shaped leaves of orange, apricot and peach, fragrance your hands as if you’ve been sharing candy floss.

red oak –
when did you begin
to stop loving me