The Landscape Outside Penelope's Window as Odysseus Sleeps His Way Around the Aegean
This isn't the same season
though they've all withheld rain.
The lake is a skull, empty
and boneless. The sun opens
the earth. Pine needles slip
inside, sew the roots
of everything shut.
Trees shed more than leaves.
Bark bent inward covets
what a cloud could offer,
what a field of dust
has already covered.