The long blue days

The long blue days are starting to yield,
whisped away by orange fingered rises
tracking to a north unborn dawn meld
with eyes blackened by night surprises:

tracking transits of sherbet not melted,
eyes behind our earth see Orion belted
when only a silver moon seems to glow;
the jagged line is still pine dark though

a brief trill in darkness brings chickadees
unsettled by a sense of dense fever coming,
with puffed feathers brown hid come to be
a shrilling harbinger for nascent numbing.

The cheap chair unfolded once in squeaking
a platform for