It is morning warm with December sun
And he pretends it is a summer day
Lying on the cold walkway outside his door
Blue sky tattered with threads of cloud
Letting go, breath comes from barren maples
Inverted airways against the sky–
Tracheal trunk, bronchial branches and
Twigs that taper to invisible alveolar leaves
Looking down, a passing winter raven sees
The boy-man’s cruciform shape–
A tiny pink asterisk of legs and arms
With a punctate white heart–a warming cat
Kneads biscuits on his chest.
I discovered a folder of excluded bits that ended up not becoming part of Slow Road Home in 2006. Some of it might bear seeing the light of day on the blog; probably the most of it was once a blog post, some has never seen the light of day. This is from that folder, for what it’s worth.