Worlds Apart

by Laura Morefield

 

Yellow leaves have fallen

From the weeping willow in the back yard

But not from her cousin in the front.

The fall sun

Pauses only for a brief morning kiss behind the house

Before idling away short afternoons

Among English Stock, thick with late butterflies.

 

As I trim roses in the evening air

Winter announces her arrival in half the house

And I regret my short-sleeved confidence.

Shivering.

Racing the watery sun to nightfall

Wishing I were

Out front.