So I am a hydrangea now
Hanging heavy with my own petals
My voice is the eye-widening rush
Of rain beneath the streets
Streaming under the drains
Petals falling on the concrete gradually
Relinquish their lilacs for yellows and browns
To be stepped on in the downpour.
So I am watching that squirrel now
Crossing the line
As it does from time to time
I have taken it to bear good tidings
Because its presence has never
Brought me sorrow.
And, do I wonder if I know myself?
I chiefly wonder if I
I find in truth that I can
In the gasping climax of