Fragments of Richmond

In august heat crickets sing and feet force dust into air as we

Whistle through hot breezes, echoing

              Foreign sounds that ring into the future.

                     In October fiery leaves fall from trees

   And litter fractured sidewalks.

                    Our paths are great grey slabs of

                   Stepping stones.

 We         jump from this one                                     to that

                   In colliding hop-scotch patterns.

             We spin into the unknown, each life

Skimming the surface and sending

             Ripples that are like radar waves connecting us.

                    Soft snow forms a

            Barrier     between our frozen worlds

                    And separates our paths.

         The white quilt kept us warm

   Until past voices

           Fade and new ones merge with

                                                    melting snow.

              Falling faces peer from windows

On planes, for stones that have been

                                Thrown are bound to

                                                              Fall.

         But now the blossom has

     Bloomed and

         Fallen, as leaves of fire

Fell before.

Palms                       cling

To the same

     moments

That once

             Lingered.

Our chaliced flesh cannot

    Hold time

        Resembling sand.