The Gap in the Trees


I’m less articulate than grass.

I hobble on my syllables

hoping something will surrender

a thought, maybe, a kindness,

a practicality.

A gap in the trees before sunset

does more.


The wind picks up

as the horizon I stare at

slips away from

the slope of today’s sun.

In some places there are no days.

I could write it down

but who knows what colour

anything is?

Does the sun have a colour?

Does water?


I don’t think birds do anything

in sentences

though I’m just making that up.

You don’t need a philosopher

to know everything changes.

You can’t step into a moment twice.

My thoughts waver

but not like a leaf.

It’s a manner of speaking.


If I thought talking to the sun

would help, I would

but the gap in the trees darkens.

The grass becomes fainter.

Whatever darkness is

it’s almost here. I turn on the light.

The light lights the room.

Nothing is inevitable.

Though maybe it is.

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