Monday, August 12, 2013

We Knew You Meant It

We knew you meant it when you met us,
smiling, eyes the kind of calm
of pioneers
used to scanning
long horizons, crops still sprouting, expectant.

We are here because it was no mistake,
that interchange of yeses, rosary chain of
long-touching, uncertain and unforeseen
pricks of conscious choice, and still more conscious
folding into small-enough-to-fit
in any suitcase,

Traveling here, spreading out to view
hay bales, fields,
the irrepressible clouds,
we feel we are seeing in your eyes, again,
that quiet question,
will you live?

Monday, August 5, 2013

This Is the Great Migration

This the great

From place
to place we feel

Not long ago,
a green anole
browning on the bush's top -

even at home
we shift, we grow,
we reared two clutches
in one nest
this season.