ONE NEVER KNOWS
It could as well be acorns arranged,
sorted and stored for winter – brittle
manzanita in the corner, anxious oak
under eve. We could as well be gophers
or woodpeckers anticipating cold or wet,
or both in this canyon that supported
three hundred humans, I’m told. In the air,
even the forgotten are making preparations,
busy leaping beams of horizontal light
burning at its edges like a grass fire.
Fall has come dressed like spring, teasing
suspiciously, vibrantly upon the green –
it is tempting to let old eyes go, follow her
off into the shadow of something new,
dark and grand that surely looms ahead.
Or it could be time has slowed the limbs
to seek simplicity, search each step – a
time to look beyond the maze of memory
and breathe, accept – ready the senses
to let instincts play with fresh words, the
honest and untrained upon our tongues.