My dear, the air is fragrant with the scent of banana cake cooling on the sideboard.
I remember reaching back around to kiss you.
Yesterday there was a dead field mouse, soft brown & lovely, eyes open, on the path.
I walked past it and considered turning back to take a picture.
I might have posted a picture of a lovely dead field mouse. Why was it there? Had a hawk dropped it?
I might have turned back a few steps to take a picture but a couple strolling with leashed dogs swung onto the path and the moment was broken.
Perhaps I should have warned them of the dead mouse on the path.
But their dogs, I'm sure, would have discovered it soon enough.
Besides - who needs to be warned of a dead mouse on a path?
So I simply said hi.
Today, same path, I looked carefully at the brown leaf litter.
The mouse was gone.
Elsewhere, in grass along a different stretch I found a tortoiseshell comb, the kind women put their long hair up with in a knot.
I picked it up - someone else's ornament, but it's nice.
I considered placing it - probably should have - at the kiosk as an object "lost & found."
Instead I pocketed it, brought it home, washed it with verbena soap, and pinned it into my hair. It's not as effective as a clip. Still, I like it.
I remember reaching back around to kiss you.
Your smooth skin, muscled chest, a necklace you wore,
Black beard, beautiful lips, lashes long, your green eyes open
Your soft voice a murmur
I arched back to meet your kisses