Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Anything Goes

Early-ish morning,
when the air is light and 
thoughtless and the widening 
sun still feels streaked 
through with faint 
filaments of night-air cool

and your senses start
to swell with caffeine and
the smell of cut grass 
and the wholly original sight 
of those waxy young hydrangea
leaves in sun outside your front door—

that's when you'll feel hungriest,
desparate and reckless
to yoke the woods and
moved to make the soft-lit brick
buildings and birds on your block
do pretty rhetorical tricks.

But eager as you are,
and quick and young
and seeing silver everywhere,
you have to remember that
today was always here before you;
so you have to be careful what you ask it for.

Even at this early hour—nature 
always always always
says yes.