In the Hazy Light
Variegated streaks
criss-crossing,
soothing lavender
then fiery maroon,
with belts of amber
in between.
Slate blue bluffs
catch the sun before it lands,
dipping into the rippling orange
of the mottled lake.
The pitch black pines are still,
passed the rusty mesh
of a rickety screen door.
Our eyes were fixed
up to the moment
your coppered profile
became shadow,
and I could see you no more
in the hazy light.
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