Have started listening to opera.
It was there all along, like God,
but I chose to be busy with other things.
Catharsis comes sometimes the same way
seasons die: without our being able to control
the eventual or sudden transition. One day
it’s just cold.
I cut my hair because I could feel the leaves
disengaging. One must prepare.
And in the street, a rallying heat
waves its scarf in an early goodbye.
You might as well let everything go;
it’s best to be unfettered when the new winds blow.
