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.
GladErrand 