May/June 2020 • Vol. XLII No. 3 Nature’s Nature 2020 |

Lines along a Wild Place

I walked through the enterprise of weeds. A crow for each of us stood mounted on a fence. Sometimes I miss everyone I ever loved When their faces reflect in the hard, wide Leaves of the magnolia, their names like blossoms, And their lives once so real and fragrant Now like handkerchiefs beneath the trees. If my dog were alive he might piss on them, And I would have to yell at him not to, If anyone were around. If anyone were around, I would say I had momentous news To tell but forget what it is. I will ask the dogwoods to remind me What it means to live along the edges of the woods, To be promiscuous but bear white flowers.

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