Reenactment

When children want to know something, love is in the room.

Learning is a response to what they sense.

For me there was never pain from fire so I sense no danger

and intermingle that with some centennial sense.

Oh yes,

there is knowing in me, not age, that unites the sounds and sites of childhood remarklessly well,

and sometimes the room is crowded.

Sometimes I am again weaving through at knee height

swinging through a forest of hose and slacks to wonder, during a toast, how the old man learned to forget so well.

I was never a runner, but paces echo in me.

I’m leaving the table before I’m dismissed.

Classic.

Ass to the sand, and eye level with the water

I can’t believe how close I am to true beauty. Let me tell you, it is vast. Scaly in its multiplicity. Yowling for another moment of sunlight,

because even true

is up for ending.