a shale-brittle afternoon hoses

down the pathways of its

April Garden, with a thin smoke.

a single cloud stretched to a wisping

spark that aches.

landward oceans sinking underground--

helped skyward.

color to the everchanging perceiver--

for no sake of its own.

never to recollect what it is called as

if by name.

marked roots from the flip glaze of

calendar years.