Through Hardened Clouds
swallowing a single
leaf of lemon basil,
as the lifted newspaper
settles to the ground,
a moment joy
dashed by headlines.
a rabbit passes
through the radish patch stops,
stands still, surveys
the world ahead,
imagining escape routes.
those on the bus that exploded somewhere
across an ocean
earlier in the day
didn’t have such a luxury.
i bend over,
pick up a rock and throw it,
hear it hit a fence between
the scampering of feet
fading in the turning away.
one hand to the heart,
the other grasping
a pregnant bean stalk, tears
forcing their way with the sun
through hardened clouds.
they will all ripen at the same time,
i say to myself,
as skins slides over skin,
one species across another, a flowing
so simple and easy,
it’s rarely a match
in the minds that love a good storm.
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