Monday, July 12, 2010

I look at rings

I look at rings


I look at rings
of trees I counted
once when camping
as a boy. I thought
they could be hurled
to space and changed
to tracks for the voyages
of spheres. I thought
we had a choice of wonders
then; that comets fired
wants and kept
discouragements at bay. I lay
below an open sky and watched
knots of light that would secure
my craft and her great sheets
toward a distant, calling
age. I would quiet waves with songs
and make a way to telling stories
in a far-off day, of wetted
floors of woods and confidence
in pools of truth, moon like,
where a reader would pause

--Charles Bane Jr..

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