I can't hear the cars,
but I can see them;
the rush of tiny sun-reflections moving south, towards the suburbs.

I can't hear the footsteps,
old men in hand with little boys--
each crunching the crunchiest leaf,
and then the next crunchiest,
and then the next--

The postman;
the couch;
the Sunday afternoon.

my hair smells like cold
like that frozen ocean smell
like that laundry hanging out
in the wind,
just like the wind

i've gotta tell you
i've found beautiful sounds
in the crunchiest snow
and the highest tides i've ever seen

have you ever watched your heart
set with the sun
and rest in the receding tide?

a universal opening of the heart
breathing it in
breathing it out
cheers across the ocean
a transit of jupiter
and the smiling moon

shining like orion in the dark night
shaking the dust from my shoulders

Don’t disappear.
Not today.
The humidity is too low,
The vibration of baby insects hums along the ground
Surely you hear them.
Tomorrow it will still be springtime
And the day after that.

You can’t disappear, you’ll miss the fireflies and the August lilies
You’ll miss the homemade garden salsas and the baskets of eggplants and basil and sweet peppers
You’ll miss the crunchiest leaves under your shoes
The feeling of warmth after cold
The November moon.

Don’t disappear,
The wide world needs witnessing
And you’re the only one with your eyes to witness it.