From the outskirts of the town
Where of old the mile-stone stood,
Now a stranger, looking down
I behold the shadowy crown
Of the dark and haunted wood.
Is it changed, or am I changed?
Ah! the oaks are fresh and green,
But the friends with whom I ranged
Through their thickets are estranged
By the years that intervene.
Bright as ever flows the sea,
Bright as ever shines the sun,
But alas! they seem to me
Not the sun that used to be,
Not the tides that used to run.
brown moth blends against bare earth,
'til footfall tremor sends it lurching.
gone to fluff:
flowers quietly await a
good, stiff breeze.
Spring rain for days:
grass is green & thick;
the mud, soft & thin.
trunk ringed by fallen blooms,
only the pate contains hangers-on.
bright-fringed clouds
with blackened bellies drift:
summer day sundown.
Autumn moon first glimpse
is impossibly huge;
the next, it shrank!
boats float the river;
balloons through the sky.
i float through time.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 