Connected

 Found an old poem I scribbled on a small piece of notepad paper.  Creased like it hurts and aged almost see through.

It was dated 6/1/02.

A decade ago.

Before Sadie, kids, and marriage. 

It's like visiting with a different person.

But not so different I don't recognize her.

I didn't name this poem then but I will now:

Connected

Squared off sunrise leaves
rocks in splotching spirit holding onto
the day with their last breath,
each night a dangerous undertaking.
Who will catch the light when it spills
downward, tumbling over dirty trails
minding the fall away from its personal summit?
It took all day to climb.
Yellow moss grew once and bakes itself off
for the rest of time.
Everything that lived here long ago leaves
no more of itself than it is supposed to.
We see success of the successors,
perfectly nonlinear, plutonically dependent
on activity and motion of the winds.
We are separate unto no one
alone for no time at all.