In the Middle of Nowhere


revisiting the vista i use
for my laptop’s home screen

i meet the gaze of a hawk
hanging in the wind

right where i’m used to seeing
the icons for my apps

the rocks are cold
my thermos mug keeps burbling


the muffled knocks
of a pileated woodpecker

opening a new door
into an oak

shadows grow darker
as the clouds thin out

the mountain hisses
in the north wind

i start thinking what if
time never passes

and instead it is us
who pass through it

a walker’s thoughts only
make sense on foot


200 years and a trail
may sink into the ground

i’m at eye level
with roots now

the crisp air smells
piney and fungal

leaves are revealing
their true faces

acorns thud down
at odd moments

like the steps of someone
lost in contemplation


feet propped up
on my front porch railing

lean against one another
like two old drunks

my thoughts retreat behind
the parentheses of my ears

a Carolina wren chants
his teakettle song

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