And here I am, again
seeking the simplest solace
the flicker of pink
in an underwing
don’t know if you saw it
which tips me over
again, the elegant branching
of a dormant magnolia
like alveoli against
the darkening sky
but too brittle
for breath, also
but this illusion
of inertia
is beguiling
for once flight
seems frantic
or perhaps just out
of reach
to stay rooted exactly
here without even the weight
of a thought of returning
no movement no reckoning
that might be fine