When We Were Not Old Nor Young

When we were not old nor young we tracked and hunted, it never occurred to us ‘for what’. Disasters were counted victories, failings our strength, and being oblivious, we were happy, we were both lemmings and foxes, clouds climbing cliffs. On the steps of our body temples we lingered with temple flower girls who sold us kisses for prayers and it was good, and just a step below the groundhog days of this hedgerow living. Now, we are the recorders of our middle histories sewing patches and scrapes to create stalking-horse words as if we had never been those, the headlong and heedless, when we were not young nor old.