old things are passed away
the upper & lower springs
we are second lives &Heaven
excuse me for asking,
but do you think
we’ll pine for the perishable?
for little boxes
like my brother used to make,
for dusty feet and a water baptismal,
for raw meat smoking &dry grass burning,
for the great mountain &green noble fir?
am i wrong in thinking so elemental,
as first lives slip away spontaneously
like the snow of early spring
nobody asks for strawberry jelly?
and nobody remembers war?
for Real Toads