Et in Arcadia ego
once the sky pulled the child taught against its blue breast and squeezed,
running over the field of lavender and green
scent and shadow falling like steps beneath her
and all she could think, in that moment caught tossing,
was there, if I let go of the kite, i shall lose the islands and the water in the distance, but
i am fit for this.
as the world races to break itself open
let us not forget, for each, that place, where we, carried
in the lap of a hammock, swinging quietly past the shadows and dream,
long and here: between the boat dock and the bone-rust winches
and the green teeth of the islands in the distance that beckoned us home....beckons us,
home.
remaining life-filled and swinging into the day and into the spinning night
and the summer raises us skyward, tilting
as our bruised selves and hearts sense a brighter, summer light.
