Return Visit

I see the Past happen before my eyes (here a not too bright Cabbage White hides among the coal my sister’s laugh decorating a June night so bright it’s almost light my mother’s hands blue with cold singing to her washing the graceful notes freeze as they leave her lips birds like staff notation sketching the gist of the tune on telegraph wires every now and then moving up & down a note us in Spring spinning ‘round ‘n’ ‘round falling dizzy to the ground feeling like we’re falling off the earth pinning ourselves to the ground with sheer will power as the blue sky washes over us & our senses drown memories scattered upon the sands of time like seashells clutched in children’s hands. (for Bud)