The speaker searches for an answer and finds instead the physical trace of having been altered.
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I reach into my pocket for the answer. There is lint, a key, a stone. The stone has learned my temperature. I hold it up to the field. Nothing explains itself. Still, I am not the same as when I put my hand in.
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A nature & reflection poem about frame, letter, looking, where attention changes the scale of the ordinary.
A nature & reflection poem about field, light, boundary, where attention changes the scale of the ordinary.
The field is not withholding an answer; it simply has a life that does not require the speaker's interpretation.
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