Sunset scorches the underside of leaden clouds.
Each fire orange maple leaf balances water beads.
Green lichens brighten.
I long for warm night air in a different here.
Tan pin oak leaves rattle in the February wind.
Sun-crystallized snow ssslinks when it melts, falls.
The cat watches round drips melt into wet wood planks.
All these beautiful things, yet my mind goes blind wanting what comes next.
Denise is just another human who will die someday. It will not greatly matter that she is author of a poetry chapbook titled Eat the Apple; that she served as Managing Editor of Dunes Review; or that her poetry has appeared in Bitter Oleander. She talks to sunflowers and stares at water for long periods of time.