10.

She scribbles in a small book
It's undeniable.
You can't turn summer back into spring
or winter into autumn.
Birds don't turn back mid-migration.
Love doesn't back up and take a different turn this time.

She is on top of a white mesa
as if she has always been on top of a white mesa
The sun is blazing
as if the world has never been dark.
Her hair was once short
now long
someday silver
She can't ignore this.

He is brilliant. More
every year
Someday
less so.
The gypsum crunches underfoot
She dreams of him, forgets him again,
likes to dream of him when things are complicated.

She gets up from the shade.
Time begins again.