Final Exposure

The light smell of firewood 

after rain; the ladybug scarcely 

in sight beside dew & ashes, the black 

body of a streetlight shimmers in mist. 

The crackling wood and gray clouds

dissolve into the sky’s thick navy sheet.

You wind the green Fujifilm 

for the final exposure.

A squirrel 

(with a light brown back

and no tail) crosses the empty

street, crawling beneath a white

fence. She snaps thin twigs

with each leap across snow & mud.

The solidarity of unfallen leaves

on black boughs. The cold 

holding things and my yawny-tears in place 

— hardly a sway despite the black effort.

Again the streetlamp,

again the long electric waves 

shinning in the vault of night.