the dawn walk—

not yet fully



remember, now

as the season of crows


a hand in similar

shape, but





behind fences,

they do

what they want


no consequence


(voices whisper





the old Mason—

granddaughter in a princess cart,

together on the dirt road


I have questions

about the density

of matter


of hands holding

genetic pattern




plants push limits, repeat

limbs in fractals


till they feel enough

the sky


ladders, the product

of a finite will


there may be a shadow

in this yard

that joins us




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s