Whatever it was that kept me away though it hasn’t
entirely vanished has lightened somewhat Dragonflies
zoom over grass blades fifty generations hence reacclimating
to my return The air feels more temperate the plants stiller :
What say you bottle-green metallic-blue bug-eyed creatures?
You remind me of early encounters with art in a cave or a smock
the full alphabet not yet decided A teacher explains in basic vocabulary
the metaphoric consequences of a painting by Diego Rivera :
the load of pink flowers and skin tones which match the earth
All those summers sink like unread salts toward earth’s center
How many times did the family (crows passing overhead)
equivocate over stakes that were never meant
to reach the point of death? How many years
did we waste settling that same ill-fated departure date?