Wednesday, June 13, 2007
I Am Backyard
A fish jumped and
I remembered
what it was like
jumping off
the low-dive and
landing on my belly.
Over yonder a tree
on its side
that the beaver hauled down.
A bird.
Until it drops,
until it alights silently
in the extended arms
of the willow.
A thousand lightning bugs
once invisible sting the
twilight like branding irons.
Soon it will be dark,
though the moon
(I’m sure)
grows brighter.
