Seeking beneath green to billion years-oldrock pressed of sand, gravel and clay, downthrough worm work in rich compost and crushed brick,
I hear immigrant and native godslook up to sub and top soils for bones
along brick and flagstone walls.
They check the wire fence and find it porous.They circle my feet and heart.They shake my gravity and levity.
You are still part of what you didn’t build,they murmur, whether walls or flora andfauna. You are exhaust and floral scent.
You plant wrong species of tree, you wearbad footwear. Leave old. Bare soles.They nudge me.Touch deeper, we invite you.
Eyes open, I see only robins. Surprisedand dizzy, I reach for trees to embrace,white pine and lilac among the maples.
Please respect my copyright.
If you quote, credit this page.
© 2022 Susan L. Chast