[3]: Skeptic’s Mantra.

When I first began the poems that I loosely bind by the title “I miss the old, blue sky” in 2013, I intended to express my unending wonder at and reverence for the small moments of beauty that you find everywhere in nature: wind across cold water, sunlight twinkling around leaves, the gentle lives of those unobserved. But I found all these things to be deeper, more difficult to grasp than I imagined, once I looked into them.
~

it is cruel & gruesome to speak of knowing
and a harsher sin still to know –
the grains in wood
are not going anywhere, but wherever
together they go;

a kiss
through the eye
& back again