Morning sunlight on the riverbank.
Old bridge in the background.
Hubbub of human sound
gone quiet here – some time to think.
The ranks of cottonwoods draw shapes
in four dimensions – homesick
willows by Euphrates,
brooding vaults of shady Chartres,
cloisters clad with marigolds
on orange heights (Monte
Cassino) – where they
summon up papyrus scrolls
like hopeful honeybees, reviving
scribble-cribs in royal reels
of pearly Solomon’s seal –
fern, aloe, acacia... (ever-living
green confetti, for Easter Rabbi).
I pace these precincts with
a vagrant slouch, as if
I’d missed the point. & then I see
you! – bright invincible
companion – always there
in your cloud-rocking chair
at End of Time, & trouble –
familiar storyteller, Indian Guide
whose hearth blazes from Southern
Cross to blue Vermilion – within
Love’s angled arc (smile-wide).