This Is a Place To Live

the lake sits glassy and smooth songbirds of noon have long since retired in their place sound shrill chirp squawk and croon faded peach and blue, diffuse light yet left, spread their peaceful, off-tint hues while mortal reds lighten and bloom; this is a place to die. unlike the bleach bright White of a temporary cot and room: this is a place to be consumed by patchwork green, and the ponderous weight of night to relax the coil and tangles of the knotted life I choose; this is a place to die drowse enchanted lose my sturdy suit and tie. I will trade for the industrial tomb these womblike evergreens to play nursemaid and tray-in the last cups of clean dusk air quietly.