Teach me to startle
at the first crow’s caw
to bid farewell
to the bit of snow
along the driveway
to exult in wonder
a schoolbus passes
in return I offer
a word for every thing
in the wide world
Then one of us reached
to where a ruined fruit had fallen,
its heavy coat split and the bitter marrow
bared, then flung it skywards, a little sun
spinning above the skinny elbows of the trees.
So we’ve moved out of the years.
I am finally back upstream
and, but for their holiday grins
on every bookcase, the boys
were never born, it was a dream.