Name something dead

 
without saying death; name
a fear that spreads like brush
fire without saying fear.  If the loss 
of something long hidden delivers 
a fresh hurt the moment you realize 
what it is, it wasn't lost at all—
only out of view. Name a season
dressed in wind-torn strips as well
as yellow flower heads. Name
something that lived past all
prediction without saying life.
The sea is green. The sea is blue.
This morning, the air is balmed
with clouds. Tonight, the sky's
the shade of well-worn comfort. 
Tomorrow, we'll take a cool drink 
from a cup just lifted whole
out of the furnace.