Late last nature,
in the center of sign.
There are rocks, a pocket.
I was looking for
the ground, a night,
a touch. As I sat
to summon an hour,
I realized the time
to think blossomed.
Navigation seized me.
To harvest light serves
no reason. This is the
only way to form.
Any opening invites
a highway. Cut off
from snaps. The places
where the eyes
are easiest grow
brightest. You’ll soon
find the same.