ANOTHER LANGUAGE
I am reminded when sweet Impatience leaned
upon my shoulder, breast pressed and whispering,
‘Hurry!’ – when I could not shake her, could not
ignore the reverberations within my flesh, mind
blinded and muscles bunched to get done early.
No ceremony, no blue ribbon bonus, no awards
glint from the shelf for short-lived pleasures,
but these blond slopes, cured and carved by time,
breathe easily as the living leave their shadows
under trees to graze the gloaming until full,
to find a soft bed and dark sleep. Here, another
language speaks to the world – you can read
it from a distance, short poems like colored
leaves or dandelion seeds riding a breeze –
landing between us that say who we are.