Voices on the Wind
Voices from Home
by Kathryn Jacobs
We blinked in bronze-light, filtered like we'd stepped
into a cup of amber, or the sun
were glazed with russet spectacles;
with interwoven needles, all the green
leached out as if the copper under-glow
drank up the missing color;
in fuzzy light like melted caramel
we waded into, sticky.
into the bright thin spill of watered-down
like we'd been robbed of something:
that so much concentrated chestnut glow
was trodden underfoot.