Between Shades

“Alive,” she said, “and becoming such a beautifully- painted picture.” Where-in you walk wispy (She said) through the moon’s light shinning on the branches of leafless trees. Then tomorrow shakes his tired head, halfway into Autumn’s- dead middle; and you stand shaded and colored (She said) by the fiery skies. While down among your feet the wilted flowers wake like a carnival and encircle you (She said) with forgotten happiness. And on you trod shyly into forests of yes and no. Where all happiness is lost, and the flowers forget- to grow. “Alive,” she said.