Crouching quickly behind boxwoods during a game with my children.
A rabbit so unused to seeing wild humans eye-to-eye at root level
didn’t spook for thirty seconds. Later the yard will be firefly full,
Signals hazing in and out like ashes in reverse, a house
That used to be here unburning from the ground, the family whole
And healthy, the front porch boards reconstituting under the feet
Of my daughter as she takes a picture of the moon through
The geared leaves of tall walnut trees, the game she made up
releasing its antitoxin into the soil that makes it possible to remember
And inhibits the growth of competitive species of thought.
You made me see the thing happening in rewind. I don’t know how every poem that you write is outstanding. Never a disappointment to read your work. Always gives me something to ponder on throughout the day.
Thank you for those kind words! This was really one of those poems that I could not feel coming together as I wrote it, but when I went back to it I did not feel any “give” for making revisions — so I just left it alone. You know that kind of poem? and left it for the reader to judge.
Yes, I certainly do!
“a house/That used to be here unburning from the ground” — wonderful image!
Thanks Chris! I owe you a call soon…