I’m trying to understand —

What does this ocean mean right now?
It’s voice is soft, I barely hear

The words its forming in the waves
I stand, attenuated, like a deer —

But stillness breaks before it forms
My mind, it never finds repose

Whatever, now, this ocean meant
Is lost to space,
For heaven

Snapshot: Pecan Orchard

The aged have seen off many years,
The wise ones understand —
The orchard’s slumbering, and cold,
As is the land —

I wish that I bore other fruit,
But from this, there’s no fleeing —
The tree that I was born to be
I’ll end up