Endless Lawn XXVIII

Aura

If you listen, you’ll hear

the machines and the birdsong

and the wind. Maybe,

if there are no trees,

you won’t hear the wind.

Because the wind plays the leaves

like a harpist,

arpeggiating as it rises.

And so the machines

and birds play the air:

bass violas, timpani, and flutes.

And a pencil plays the paper:

scratching across it like

fingers over the rough head

of an old bongo.

And the sun plays the atmosphere.

And the atmosphere, in turn,

plays your skin sweaty.

And maybe then, you

play the pool like a cymbal.

And the symbol

plays the mind

as if it was a sound.

T. Evans, August 2023