For-a-Second

Reading and reading, the way we live,
A hundred thousand sentences a day,
More if you look closer.
I stream through places,
In my books, in my head, in the world,
Here “a short ridge eight or so feet tall”,
Here an orange dirt lane pressed between the sacred valley, obscured in darkness,
Here white chalk stone, pine forest through a bus window, panels of the azure Aegean between their backs,
Here peach blossom and the tang of hops in the Cairns marina as eyes…