Thursday's Child
the intricate work of live oak trees in sunlight, one hard-edged shade after another, branches shagged with pale green moss; random play within a limited field, then, leaf, leaf cluster, light, shade, shadow and act, wave and particle, John Lewis and Milt Jackson, morning places you at such infinitesimal distances from consequence, precision seems the natural way things choose to be ordered, touch the table edge as though it too were an instrument, cup, glass, bowl and spoon, a single blackberry stem etched, like punctuation, into the saucer’s pale rim; leaves, as I said, and branches
