a sequoia sprig falls...
into reminiscent ripples of yesterday
the child’s reflection warps
the journey from silt to sun is complete
with bursting lungs and flailing arms
where a turtle perches on a stick,
we kick desperately to the surface,
the ancient keeper of time
by the light of the moon
like a womb in its monthly absence of life
and decomposed humus shedding tissue
through layers and years of leaf-sink,
it takes a long time to become young.
the child’s reflection warps
the journey from silt to sun is complete
with bursting lungs and flailing arms
where a turtle perches on a stick,
we kick desperately to the surface,
the ancient keeper of time
by the light of the moon
like a womb in its monthly absence of life
and decomposed humus shedding tissue
through layers and years of leaf-sink,
it takes a long time to become young.