Sunday, August 30, 2020

If This Year Were A Landscape

It would start on a sidewalk of

smoothed cement with worn edges.

Turn sideways and view

the swamp. A thin stream curving 

S wise through, grasses six feet

high.  So, you walk

down, stopping as the green is

above your head. But you're 

not frightened. The sidewalk is just there. 

And this green, growing is only a wall.  


It's standing when your breath becomes faster.

You really can't see. 

And it becomes important, though you

know you are safe now, to see. What if. 

Anything, anything could happen. 

So with silly looking grabs, you pull 

the razor grasses down around you.


Look out across the swamp and see a 

smudged green horizon. Circling now

seeing only that. That, that calms you. 

The green rests your eyes. Firmer ground

is right there. If you walk through,

you would sink in mud and detritus. 

You could end up in swimming;

muddying up your body from 

knees to thigh to waist to chest to neck.  


But right there, a smudged green cool 

waits for you. You can leave now or

come back later, even go forward now. 

No, you will get to there if you wait

long enough. The grasses will wilt 

and freeze, the ground solidify 

until you can go, given 

permission by a new cold world

to walk again toward green paradise.








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Thoughts

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