Seeing

What travels to us

on beams of 

light is everything.

At the edge

of earth, the sun falls

into nothing, dark.

Crystalline spheres, 

effluvium, ether 

spin in the whirl 

of the deep void 

we do not yet know by touch

but name “space”.

Near me, leaves become

their plural— trees.

They change into the deep 

color of season, turning, moving, falling

toward an end.

It takes a while

but suddenly I am shocked

by a green body, small and insect 

on this pane of glass. 

It makes me 

back up into a field of vision,

a point of view that says 

You are here

and

There’s a window, 

but you can 

still see.