Asters

Asters—sweltering days old adjuration/curse, the gods hold the balance for an uncertain hour. Once more the golden flocks of heaven, the light, the trim— what is the ancient process hatching under its dying wings? Once more the yearned-for, the intoxication, the rose of you— summer leaned in the doorway watching the swallows— one more presentiment where certainty is not hard to come by: wing tips brush the face of the waters, swallows sip speed and night.