A Brief Season
by Andrea L. Alterman



Lilacs bloom in spikes,
sun illuminates them top to bottom,
cardinals clash with their purple
and complement the leaves outward
coming as May progresses,

I feel their scent around my bed at night,
a light spice of spring still moving its breeze
around days replete with song sparrows
bubbled trills, a slight chill of shadows
cast by oak leaves smaller than a squirrel’s foot,

you pivot closer, drawn in by ripples left
by an early evening fly hatch from one
small still curve of pond draining past
curls of ferns,

I sketch an overhanging lilac over your
left cheek, the caress I wanted to leave
with you before today departed in
orange pink petals deepening to black.






Copyright 2017 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.