This is how it went

Trees frame the window:

 

scholar trees, though tourists dragging cameras up the hill

see only a mock gothic quadrangle emerging from grass;

 

sturdy trees, tenacious,  papyrus unfolding insect life

and bark-edged loyalty to the reader and worker bees

 

inside. Fumes of vapid economic rationalism

block the colony, foraging among pages ceases.

 

Trees hold me in their radix. I bypass desks, computers

paper, filing cabinets; pick up my bag, and leave

 

Copyrighted by the author

 

26 again

A Grecian oracle took my hand

up the slopes to sky, look

how the land cracks despite

our care, walk the rocks

with thought.

 

I could not. I had to stop.

I saw verbascum, yellow beacons like buoys

stumbling over paths, even cliffs, figwort

figments remaining in crevices

like springs of fresh source.

 

I stare Pythia in the face

as I did at 26 walking still

to an iambic rhythm, we know it

well. Pindhos markers, settling limestone

talk with Pindar and Sophocles where purple orchids

grow free

 

 

Copyrighted by the author