With you, inside,
from the pachysandra,
a barrage of deep green
and cheering white, soothing
And electrifying
protecting ardor from thought.
On the cast bench,
all debts paid,
drawn back to the boxwoods
aside the
crushed stone path
A smokey whiskey
and black poplar parasol
matching the thick sky,
no contemplation only
an industrial puff in the air
left
From the end of work days
facing a bellowing fire
miles to the east.
Let questions go unanswered,
I wonder if there is anyone
with the confidence
To fill in what you think

RLB 03-22-2022