The View from Ox and Old Chain Bridge

sometimes i watch
the whole gliding mass
drifting up over the hillcrest and down,
sloped like a mist, stretched across
the contours of the Earth--

and sometimes i pick out
one two-point object from the flickering
stream: we flow together predictably,
approach this intersection where
we both take Human shape--

and swoop wide right:
around: and through: while i sit and wait
to glide, drift, flicker, flow;
journey interrupted like a meteor
falling toward the Sun--

when we die, we'll say
life was how it had to be: churned and coursed
through channels impervious, necessary.
and then we'll watch the gliding mass
settle like dew upon the Spring.




September 2015