You’ll find the truth in the dirt

damp black honest dirt

Yes the truth and the lies and the silences

The orchid begins in green hush needing

no soil and giving up fragrance

for improbable              beauty

The baker crumbs yesterday’s muffins

into tiered wedding cakes

The two-trunked cork oak fans wide

risks failure                    holds                                                                                           

The boy’s white hair turns brown turns

white in the sun

smells of summer          of wheat

The girl hopscotches to twelve turns

in the air                         hops home

In your à la mode dreams you may die

then forget about death

forget the stars              and the green

and even the dirt