Arrow

The meadow hit me once

A clear tall winter

Into spring

The shadows on a picket fence

Shiny dots on the window pane

Burned into place

Wandering off into the distance

The hills rolled into each other

Like creases in sheets

Like when eyes meet

And feel at peace

A soft gaze

Too curious to pull away

Planning only yesterday

Wayfind our circumstances 

To new, to fall unseen

A shade of brown black and gray 

Not to dismay

Tomorrow

Stand

Hear

Cane poles tipped over the water near

A reflection of itself 

Hewn then sheared

Left in the open field

The shelves

Dusted with memories of forgotten loves 

The lines that flow from my hands 

Are an edifice told true