I trace the blotting haze that
fuse it’s shave of light
felt edges step away from the breeze and
sink through the widest street,
framing the river its rustling thickness.
So many shapes, so many times
how different this new home is
after shadows formed tents I never found
with flip books in awakened blinking and
small piles of chicks tremble as mountains of
dandelion tufts before they tumble away to
seed the ground for another season
