Belonging
I was flying.
The ground was silent under dry leaves.
I was tenuous
and the stars were quiet in their intimate smoki
From a distance they turned systematically,
I understood the mathematics.
Some were spent
in a fall of cinders
beyond the dune.
At another speed
I passed the years
turning in their long fall;
there were forebears
I could nearly touch.
Not having known where down is
I am grounded.
As a roof-tree
burrows toward the sky
and a leaf turns through the light,
stones come apart
with soft cracks.
Page(s) 19
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