Fondly Remembering Branches

The crows fly with their own reasons

While we numbly watch the passing seasons

It hurts less like a kick in the face

And more like a withheld embrace

Raindrops tink tink away on our mettle

As we keep on going until we settle

Trickles etch the dirt like worms through wood

Grey would scale the sky with two coats if it could

Leaving no color to chance

Not today at least

Wetness strewn with sticks

Fondly remembering their days as branches

Darkened stones blend like chameleons

Longing for the next perihelion

JArtB

 09 October 2026 0617