Spring with dandelions,
\nnightingales,
\nruts from passing carts,
\nthe patina of a copper sky.
\nA village brought together.
\nA quilt sown of time.
\nWere the people like us?
\nDid they live with our intensity?
\nThey are all sleeping in the earth.<\/p>\n
We are the dreamers
\non their beach.
\nThe echo of shells,
\nour ears.
\nThe nautilus of centuries.
\nWe have inherited their buildings,
\nthe artifacts of their hands,
\nand I reach for something
\nas I touch doors,
\npeek at their houses,
\nwonder,
\nas I would looking at wings,
\nhow far could they fly.
\nWhere did they go,
\nwhat have I never seen?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Spring with dandelions, nightingales, ruts from passing carts, the patina of a copper sky. A village brought together. A quilt sown of time. Were the…<\/p>\n