Mailman in Early November
Elizabeth Savage
On the last day this town will be
beautiful all year you walk
in the bright blue air your heart
hot inside your coat spinning
among red pinked yellows
incantations rustle around
the truck lipped in green
lonely uncle, pretty lady
here comes your man
steady at the door arms loaded
he passes no one by forgiving
as he goes a neglected walk
the whining hound unchained
on this route it is not enough
to know of sunlight and probability
for you no green can reach
into the limbs stilled in your dreams
winds fail to open the bark
although they push and part
the sky buttoned up in blue
your wheels avoid the leaves
fallen like housewives this winter
you will carry envelopes empty as spring |