I think of myself tucked into
something in a patina finish,
with a hint of green and slow corrosion.
The swing on a patio of the summer vacation house
is the best place to wind your hair dry
without the worry of a socket converter.
How many months has it been
Since you’ve visited

That old oak still grows and the hollow that
once fostered the giant mushroom we never ate
is now a home for a woodpecker
and suspicious little feathers.
Scientists who describe the fizzel out and die of stars
have never seen these parts and our fire bugs.

The snow covers it now.
And yet, the path is clear enough
to the river bank.
And we can see the ice
that never freezes over big eddy.
His black eye watching the sky for the return of those
pesky white pelicans.
Everyone knows they steal socks.
How many months has it been
Since you’ve visited

words © malai carrara 2013
photo by ania