Enthusiasms

A contentious quiet;
kept it close
diminished,
monastic

and unheard,
a language like house keys

enfolding and leading
to a pleasant nowhere
for the winter,

one season of that nation
that owned enough time
to smile in "false despair"

and weigh a pecadillo
like heavy smoke
against solid air.

Did I veer,
small-eyed,
and grace my home with retreat?

Autumn flowers lick the sky yellowly and nod
like the future.