Realms of Stone

These are the hidden realms of stone and

light where we’re fiercely on our own,

but for now I’ll wander about the lawn,

enjoy the trees, the grass, the people.

These are no times for weak knees or

hiding our heads with ostriches from truth.

The mire and quicksand are too deep already;

I know the darn routine – I’m involved.

The summer grass gives under my tread and

flattens out wherever I step on it,

yet it is resilient, curving back without

much effort while the years grow sparse.

An unsubtle rumble of thunder lurks 

above the elms this bright, cloudless day.

Where have our senses and seasons gone?

Slipped underneath the grass with water after

a drizzle? But doesn’t last week’s rain

collect between earth crust and rock bed?

A late sunlight blazes all over the place

alongside countless, aimless shadows. We’re

doomed to bridge these vast, unwelcome times

to reach some quiet corners in our lives.

The calm identity of grass seems to be all we

have beside some smatterings of light. But no! –

mere comfort isn’t enough. I’m calling for the

shine on solid stone that I will hone before the

great blur kicks in, and trees, grass, rocks

and Mankind roll away with histories of stars.