There was sun yet
This April
Streaming down between the maple leaves,
The purple finches singing it down
To dapple on the grass,
On my face
Where that sore and salty tear
Lay bitter on my cheek
Like acid rain
After dusk when steam rises
Like gray smoke on the sidewalk.

           --When You Left, Deborah R. Huso

Coming in April — my new book, Moon Blue Ridge and Smoky Mountains, from Avalon Press. More info