It’s too hot today

Pen poised over paper, prepared to compose
I struggle to write my thoughts on Fall
On this Virginia afternoon, in this record-breaking heat.

I can recall those cool Septembers when Frost
divided the seasons distinctly
On the rocky coast of Maine, between tourist and winter.

Harvest blood moons rose low in the sky.
The rolling fogs were tinted vivid
With the oranges, reds of dawn, in a mantle of  splendor.

Perhaps it is only Memory’s polish:
I think back upon bus stops and play
As crisp and stimulating, instead of just bitter cold.

Incense

I should really quit

my obsessions, they burn inside and

these tendrils and curls of smoke that

bring your face to mind

drift up and away from that bright red tip

like faded shadows

they are slowly killing me

with their insubstantiality

from within

they grow dimmer, they leave me

with each breath

wanting even more

that I take now

of what we once shared.

I am lost.