Air and Space
You walk and the world bends toward you, curls to correlate,
unthinking as leaves waiting for rain—hands belly-up and bare,
rubbed a clean, silvered
green. Little comet, it is January
1964 and I know where you are.
You walk and the world bends toward you, curls to correlate,
unthinking as leaves waiting for rain—hands belly-up and bare,
rubbed a clean, silvered
green. Little comet, it is January
