as dusk enfolds the trail
she climbs, until starlight melds
with the canopy, and severs flashlight spectrums
reaching into the sky, curving
into silver coils that bathe bare oak limbs
and her foggy breath became memories
of skinny suburban kids playing under sprinklers
camping in backyard sing a’ longs
chanting Guns N' Roses to sliding glass doors,
where smiling parents swelled with lemonade
waiting for children’s dreams to reach murky fruition
in college dorm rooms, energized with hormones
slaves to unknown thoughts that cling
like beer stains to white tee-shirts, before
professional entropy grips that cubicle of the mind
songs in the shower to sold out crowds
of imagined audiences, scream her name
to the rafters for encores, in voices that rise
and fall to the stage, rolling like quiet waves
at a vacation getaway, dancing in the air,
like the five pointed oak leaves that glide,
playfully to the grass,
outside her window.