Just Another Paradigm Shift

Just a shadow. Hardly that. But audible.

Coming out of the woods, whispering

                          Even in that light—

stars with the skeletons of animals

and old friends—

                       visible

to the eye behind the one always

left open on the east side of the house,

downhill. Where the coffee trees

and hemp and the graves of old dogs lie,

buried themselves in leaves and left

to the sputtering wind of memory.

& if that's not enough (he says

to himself in the voice of a black-and-white

actor whose name is a moth that keeps

avoiding the tip of his flaming tongue)

to bring you home, well, there

it is again,

              already exhausted

by your efforts to make it

comfortable

enough to stay. Impatient,

                                   already headed

back down into the woods, whispering

Once Upon A Time . . .