In the passages that were not human
Nothing much mostly happened.
In the fabled and fabulous anthropocene
It was still hard to remember humans
When they weren't right in your face,
Especially if you were one of them.
The summer heat rested a sweaty palm
On the crowns of the evergreens and dust
Began to gather and deepen on the usually
Muddy back roads. The ferns browned.
This was the way you wanted to be, quietly.
Afternoon after afternoon, knowing how
Brief and galloping away the frightened life
Inside you was, you could watch the empty
Trail, the small flowers visited by butterflies
No bigger or brighter than their own petals,
The clouds left over from weather elsewhere
And see nothing larger than the palm
Of your own paw stir the air. Afternoon after
Afternoon after afternoon. You shuddered.
No comments:
Post a Comment