“walk into the city to be changed…” ~ D. Bonta
And you were, even before you packed
your bags: the fact of the matter
being that the ghost of a place
haunted you, sowed seeds that turned
into blooms you could not name—
In the garden, by the shed, the bees
make a home they still remember
after traveling through fields
and vines, looking for their own
kinds of sweet. Green rows
undulate like a sea in the sun—
in the country that keeps them,
they’ll never know the luminous script
of snow, the quiet sift when leaves
abandon the arms that held them.
[LAG-other-response url=”https://www.vianegativa.us/2016/04/reinvention/” title=”Via Negativa: Reinvention”]