it came slowly out
of the switchgrass

and weeds
plodding

reptilian black
against the light brown dust

of the bike trail
i rode up to it

two feet long at least
from head to tail

so think skinned
and heavy

and that menace
of a mouth

we quietly eyed each other
before the snapping turtle

rambled
down the embankment

and slide
into the dark water

of the canal

we still        behold the ancient
                     gaze at the wonders of heaven
                     marvel at what the past holds up to her mirror

push
into the pelagic refractions

of cerulean
and celadon

stand
on an unknown shore

that washes the elemental
into the celestial

inner    space

             space

outer    space

a man walks towards me his arms clumsy with books

i hold the door open for him and notice that the books are gideon’s bibles

i overheard a nurse say yes i know he is dead but what was the time of death?

a priest walks briskly by past the elevator choosing to take the stairs instead

in the room across the hall from my mother’s the nurse always has to ask

sir?

do you know where you are?

you are in the hospital

the azaleas
have yielded

to the peonies
heavy

with rain
they have

in turn
bowed

to the hydrangeas
who have next

nodded
to the magnolias

such a patient parade
such a sharing

of sight
and scent

she said
i am ready

for the end
of my life

i am prepared

she found it
heavy

and wet
and struggling

to stand
in the shallows

of the creek
a fawn

not a week
or two old

the woman called
to me

from the creek
and passed

the fawn up
to me

it collapsed
on the grass

of the trail
trembling

and exhausted
it bawled

for its mother
i sat down

beside it
and dried

and warmed
its small body

of sticks
after a while

it stood
and made its way

carefully clumsily
into a thicket

of briars
and it was there

that i left it

who will find us in those first moments of life?
who will hold us in our final hour?

who will light the candle?
who will blow it out?

we wake well
in the early hours

i sit
in a steady hive

of light
where stillness

is the reward
the chipmunks rest

beside me
and care not

that i exist
a carolina wren explores

the cold ashes
in the hearth

of my brother’s backyard fireplace
never knowing

that i am sitting right here
a tiny red spider knits

between the leaves
of the hydrangeas

oblivious of me
or the machine pushing

through the blue silk
of the sky

is there any greater truth in life?
is there anything better than the industry of each day?
when you leave, will i miss you?

we walk
blossom blessed

drift petals down
pollan dusted

color coded inks
in whites and pinks

let purple and yellow yawn
the day’s lush lining of dawn

a woodpecker with its percussive no-no-no-notes
the fanfare of the ferns unfurling

when things threaten
to spin at such terrific speeds

build bright and breathe
new windows will open and say

to that which inevitably speeds away
for a single moment more

stay