FIGURE AND GROUND

She is a shadow on the grass. She is a shadow cast by a star so plain it bears a simple name. She is a figure on a ground so vast that even she can not see herself. Mosses grow under the grasses. Stars behind the sun. Shadows follow on, between the eastern mountains and the field all green and yellow. And each pebble burns its shadow, and each broken sparrow on the road’s cold shoulder. And why would anyone be afraid to die against this curve of space, this ground of time? Her breath streams a shadow through still airs. Passing planets pull dark shadows from their stars.