Along the Tall Grass

Dragonflies helicopter
Above the green pond.
The air moist
Heavy with the tang and musk
Of what is returning to earth.
Years collect here
Each like the other.
Nothing to mark peculiarities.

Tomorrows ribbon ahead
Like highways
Bordered by tattered signs and
Communities of crows.

Yesterday is wrapped in paper
Stored in the soul’s cedar chest
Its lid fastened and sealed
Where treasures repose
Unmolested by time.

This moment is the only presence
I have
This lungful of warm
Midwestern air.

My chest expands until I ache.

But the moment tumbles
Falling
Turning like a leaf
In a gale
Blown into a wire fence
Along the tall grass…
And all that remains is
Yearning.