Mailman in Early November
Elizabeth Savage

On the last day this town will be
beautiful all year you walk

in the bright blue air your heart
hot inside your coat spinning

among red pinked yellows
incantations rustle around

the truck lipped in green

lonely uncle, pretty lady
here comes your man

steady at the door arms loaded
he passes no one by forgiving

as he goes a neglected walk
the whining hound unchained

on this route it is not enough
to know of sunlight and probability

for you no green can reach
into the limbs stilled in your dreams

winds fail to open the bark
although they push and part

the sky buttoned up in blue
your wheels avoid the leaves

fallen like housewives this winter
you will carry envelopes empty as spring

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