Maybe this is the year
I learn to listen
To the stirring under waters
Reflecting
Stars in passing
The insects nestling
In the dry tangle of summer
Some of them we burn
On cold nights
Fully alive
When the leaves
Crumble to ash in your hand
Scatter over the water
Remembering
This is not time for waiting
For sufficiencies to come
Accession or revelation
Passion plays promising
Some perfect framing
When all this time
The painting was only light
Refracting
The story just choices
Holding it all in open hands
Even each other
The water glass
Over secret currents
On a journey to the ocean
No less real for being unseen
Carrying all the pieces
That could not be burned
Not dead
A still life
Of constantly moving atoms
Endlessly exploding stars
