/lit/ - Literature

>>6963713
>>6963776
>>6963820
Back with a new write: I also tried a sparser version if there's any interest in that.

In the muggy heat of early Fall, I lounged,
Alone and weak, on a white patio chair;
Day surrendered to dusk, and mutely I gazed across
The grass, the trees, and wrinkled violet sky.

A pale young cardinal flew to my feeder,
Its soft brown tufts lending a tender life to both
My thoughts and the humid air they slept inside.
Not sure I deserved her here, I kept so still
And distant, not wanting the bird to fly away -
Not calling - taking cautious steps through grass.

But was I careful for her sake or for mine?
Perhaps they were as selfish and cowardly
As my dozing - fearful to move, or change too fast?
In meek flutters, the cardinal left, I creeping, yet still,
To the swishing feeder in the air now empty
Of the sun's last rays. I knew too late that she
Did not want silence, but life and holding warm -
Crisp chirps and arm waving and kisses steady and long.

Returning in the black, I take up my chair,
My glass, my quiet and thinking, alone once more.
In the heat, my frail arms shiver constantly.