Unsent Apology

When I got back home, the sun
rested uneasily over a collar of hills,
warm air wavered, cratering onto the street.
Sparrows winged chaotically from here to there,
visibly frantic over which way to go.

I’ve been moving like them too long,
but unlike them, alone, at times hopeful.
But closer to where I’d see you
again, where your ease could absorb me,
just seemed a fictive oasis to me.

Thoughts of explaining this to you now
mass like the murder of crows outside.
The press to explain not showing up
weakens like the fury of the summer
sun at dusk, setting crows to flight.
(September 2026)