Spaceship Earth

The chair in the forest accommodates a cushion of moss — better than the bedspring, which collects dead leaves & the rare blackberry sprout. The canes never get too far in their explorations of the dappled light before a deer discovers them & has them for breakfast, spines & all, threading her hooves through the rusty coils & the jumble of squarish stones where walls once rested. High overhead, a scarlet tanager grooms under his wingpits during each pause in his recital. If only the lice that live humdrum lives in the forest of his feathers could see him as we do! An idea of perfection, a glimmering jewel alone in the overgrown void.