Lore
       

Just look
                at the light
of this hour—lore

of headstones, rooftops

the way antennae arrange

through chimneystacks

real ocean masts

the birds know at last

                        we can't stay
in alleyways

the next horizon already

underway. We can't leave either

our beautiful faces—so urgency

so color already

in pinwheels, increased

day by day. I had wanted to

show you an opening

in attention, a way

in the world arranged

toward happy-making—real

as it is to me, fields

of my family, finally

all I had asked for, singing

                and I
was lightly
                at sleep

at everything

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Copyright © 2021 Eryn Green All rights reserved
from BEIT
New Issues Poetry & Prose
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission