The field is not withholding an answer; it simply has a life that does not require the speaker's interpretation.
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The field keeps its secret without making a fist of it. Grass, light, a dark interruption— all of it continues elsewhere. I had mistaken privacy for refusal. Now I sit at the boundary, quiet enough to belong to neither.
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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.
A private transformation happens without witness or proof, and that lack becomes part of its truth.
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