Driving down the Taconic
eyes open for deer
all the leaves are fat
from the summer’s heavy rain.
The emerald grass
mired in the first frost
glitters like manganite,
beryllium, having given up
its essential elements. Now,
sailing off Westport, the water
glints with the same metallic
green after the storm.
We ride the last of the big
waves from the east.
I’m losing you.