Things Still There

Things were still there
     where most should be
     and some should not;

A rising red lily
     in its speckled forest,
     open mouth singing;

Dirt, freshly hoed and raked,
     the odd squirrel hole
     and impatient weed;

A dandelion seed
     drifted, buffeted
     by thermal fingers;

Trees — Fig and orange,
     abundantly giving
     and eventually messy;

A roach on its back
     once prayed for help,
     desiccated in summer heat.

An old man reclined
     in the shade,
     surrounded by green,

Wondering if he were content,
     tempted by beauty
     and the risk of joy,

When the upturned creature
     said, “Be careful,
     I am a mirror.”.
 

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