Oh, for the years that slid by me, like lavender sunset clouds,
gliding south on a mission.  dropping off the side of the globe,
falling off the cliff into mist so fine it has no color now.  i’m so full of distance.  held, in suspense, for time’s crooked hands to let go of all my earthly graces.  all i see is berries, bushes bursting with bloom, red juice of life, white buds, but only in memory now.
i reach, and pull one down from the shelf, dusty and moist, mildew lying between the once crisp, pages.  me, dallying with my gardens.  barefoot in the wet, blackness of earth i amended to ensure the long life of what i buried there.  the smell of fertility, the shoots, then the way everything opened brightly under the
yoga of sun.  large and fragrant, like lemon chocolate, like rose ginger.  Oh, for the years, where that garden was blessed by the kind moon’s gentle hands and my woman-blood ran rivers.  time marches on like the confederate cavalry with their whoops and hollers, without hesitation, going forward on bluff, outnumbered and bound to lose the war.