Cartography
A river threads a patchwork of activity,
Uniting man to nature, his desire,
To commune, make his mark, despite the brevity,
Of each man’s passage from flame to ebbing fire.
Clouds, with silent dabs, caress the land,
Forge maps for mind and eye,
Suddenly, a ray illuminates a narrow band,
A field where puffy dots graze or lie,
A stone among them, its meaning lost in time,
Once told that men fought there;
Their dying cries, now absent, echo in the whine
Of wind among the trees, lays bare
To me, the mental spaces which I breathe,
The intricate patterns which, with words, I weave.
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