Friday, March 23, 2012

A Million Years Later

Back at the park after
Sorting recycling beside
"America's most scenic dump,"

A warm spring already,
Feeling later in the year,
So long after being here

A million years ago
Last spring, when things
Were differently the same,

The composer and stealer
Of peculiar phrases pauses
To consider the greening.

Ants clamber the stems
Of grass by the bench,
Colorado license plates,

Green and white, blossom
In the suddenly crowded
Parking lot. Ravens debate

Whether this spring or that
Better defines the spirit
Of the thing. Nothing,

Blessed nothing, eternal
Companion, creator, and consort
Of everything, remains the same.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.