Forever
A poem
This violent spring is self-indulgent-
fragrant blue Ceanothus lash
the scarlet Gooseberry; the earleaf
Acacia and French Broom are a
thrush of invasive gold amidst the cultivated
poppies who have jumped the gun
on their wild siblings.
We trance through this battlefield
slowly and silently, like the future ghosts
of dead leaves and blooms
mixed by the wind.
Some people say time exists all at once
if you zoom out enough,
which means we will always be halfway
across this old bridge, always the Arroyo Willow
seeds cascading sunshine dust in the warm breeze,
always this bright mid-March snowfall set you to giggling
in your shaded chariot on my back,
always the Carmel River healthy and dangerous
and beautiful below.
And yet, despite this permanence,
we arrive at the bridge’s terminus,
time and wind rushing by us,
willow seed supplanting itself
amongst the hemlock and poison oak,
you laughing and laughing and laughing away.
