Labyrinth



Shredded samaras on the floor of the hill,

a maple tossing its bark.

Far away chirrups and caws

and the sun goes down.



So many things passing now.

Sons growing to age,

the body passing.

marriage, family, dissolution,

joints severed in the narrow span



in the twists and turns of the labyrinth,

in the coarse warp of the material,

leaves fluttering in the wind,

twisting, turning,



my innards, my brain,

wanting in, wanting out,

the tension,

the commitment



to life, to me, to authenticating,

to beauty and finding it

inside me,



to the weeds of courage

sprouting up between the cracks,

flowering in spite of lawn mower's advance,

in spite of senseless feet trampling

the green juices of our perennial certainty.



A long, plaintive bird call.

Inhale, exhale, resolution.

Trusting a path that makes no sense,

trusting the bleeding tints of involution,

walking the insides.