Where Haven't We
Been Since
we were last here?
If the day was cloudy and we
were looking for the sun,
we buttoned up our collars
and hurried past.
We watched the path for
obstructions
and hurried past all the anxious moments.
I have no memories from that day.
Yet that was the day the
great packaging
twisted at our feet.
I did not see the monstrous Samson leaning
against a tree that was not to be uprooted.
The eyes that frowned
or the eyes that gazed abstractedly
on the edge of the densely packed woods.
A Greek chorus bent on Universals.
We did not tally the
twisting
that led to bark twined on
an elegant white trunk
Or stop to stare in amazement
at one red leaf that saw it all:
A baroque masterpiece
lusting after Bernini.
Words: L. Fullington
|