Cycles
by Dave Barber

I let it go.
Waves throw it back,
White bodies and twisting vines
Wrapping on hollow trunks
and slopes
Black ocean foaming at the mouth
Can’t wait to return.

A Flower blooms,
fades, dies
And the seed wanders
through The shade to sun,
stones covering one by one
until it can’t grow –
The heart of what they covered,

Ants dissemble a moth
A morsel at a time
Carry it by me,
I’m weary of seeing them.

You break, rise up and crack
Glance away
and then return
Forgetting to call
Only I don’t
It’s back again.