Black ink and sunbeams poetry

Cottonwood,
shedding, lays down tomorrow,
in ribbons, drawn out,
an abstraction of circumstance
carpets the field

your rage,
unconstrained, spills over,
your rage, turned inwards
stains the flowers red

memory,
a refuge, Cottonwood
packed down,
into a pillowcase,
between the branches,
smelling sweetly
of better
days