matches

we find ourselves
living between summer and winter
in the time of sad endings
that flare red and yellow

like struck matches
ready to let go
after so much
green hanging on

on this goldilocks planet
not too hot
not too cold
stuck in a lonely ellipse

93 million miles
from nowhere
near the end
of a long spiral arm

and so we trade
the warmth of street-
corner kisses
for the cold steel rail

and the walk
among the fireflies
little stars
glowing cold

and the leaves
are falling
little lives piling up
on the same earth

that gathers the snow
that melts in spring
and gives itself
in joining to the sea

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About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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