The beauty of the sky rescues the brute land the tracks run through.
I was remembering St. Valentine’s day. And you.
Was everything ugly like this, that day? Brown grass and naked trees.
I only remember the excitement. Now everything looks plain.
Only the sky’s puzzling distance says beauty is always somewhere,
despite miles of fenced landscape, concrete, trash hanging from trees.
I remember you had the ability (ability?)
to appreciate the mundane.
Is that why you were comfortable with me?
And yet you sighed with me, in that flowery lane.