A white sky above with

A white sky above with

A white plane passing through

Vita Sackville-West would

Most certainly approve

The brief peonies held

Their grand debutant ball

The corn is now knee high

Patient crows hold their call

For a moment the world

For a moment the world

Peels back to the sidelines

Like a Red Sea parting

Or a road through tall pines

But not for a painting

Studied and inflected

But a snapshot flashbulb

Frozen and collected

A small apple orchard

A small apple orchard

Near a clover hillside

No tourists for turmoil

Camping to gain inside

The days repeating like

Silverware and dishes

Sun imprinting time

Reflections and wishes

Feeling foolish finding

Feeling foolish finding

Inspiration from this

Granular and wood grain

The closed eyes and a kiss

This small object of yours

Pocket ephemera

Pollinating with me

In this etcetera

X-ray or dissection

X-ray or dissection 

The soul cannot be found

Not blood in our veins or

The fabrics we have gowned

It is not charisma

Or intellect and such

It is the essence of 

Self and the thoughts we touch

Unable to gift and

Unable to gift and

It cannot be a loan

A mere shift in light like

Flashing mica in stone

The loneliness knowing

The subtle change in tone

Something between the lines

Experienced not own

I moved on yet people

I moved on yet people

Are still using old maps

I have outgrown some thoughts

In my private elapse

I am growing and new

My old self now older

But you can locate me

With hotter or colder