Freezebaby – In Memoriam JLH

larrabee-pensive-jodi.jpgThe air here stinks with raunchy, hot freshness

in our high, dry forest of fir and pine.

For cumulus clouds we have mottled tufts

of shadow and our water would burn fast

into vapor if only we’d brought some.

The polychrome riot of lands where you dwelt

visits these hills in a lesser palette,

a high earthen rainbow of browns.

Here the freeze babies may jog forever,

Padding alongside their heavy-heeled men.

They give no thought to chill. No meals to finish here. The joggers sip thin wind.

Here once a year we make peace, the old lovers,

here, only now, mostly safe from each other.

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