"Beautiful day," I say to the neighbor,
Though what I meant to say was, "Hello."
He is pulling on his running shoes;
He doesn't look up.
"Supposed to be even better
"As the week goes on," he says.
"That's not possible," I say to the neighbor,
Though what I meant was, "that's good."
He turns and without even stretching
Runs toward the falling sun.
I turn the other way and walk.
Our paths will intersect down the road
In the dark.
We will nod,
Though, after a long walk in the cooling amber air
Of early autumn, when everything--everything everywhere--
Gives back to the sun all the heat and light it has received
In the form of color, color, color--
What I will mean to say will be:

"What are dreams of tomorrow,
"When you and I
"Have it all right here, right now?"