We sat in the sun and the sun warmed our eyelids.
Our ankles were wet from the waves and red from the sand.
Seagulls flew above our heads like helicopter engines.
I came to several conclusions about the blistering planets.

In the fall I raked the leaves into piles.
We burned the piles in the sun.
We sat in the grass and the sun warmed our skin but beneath
          the blades the earth was cold from the night.
The blistering planets numbly flew their arcs.

In the winter we were careful on the sidewalks.
The ice came in milky tongues.
We whispered our breaths to the blistering planets.
Our voices were muffled by scarves.

The green returned.
The blistering planets numbly remained.
Spring quietly promised fall
with its leaves twisting like screws.