You’ll find the truth in the dirt
damp black honest dirt
Yes the truth and the lies and the silences
The orchid begins in green hush needing
no soil and giving up fragrance
for improbable              beauty

The baker crumbs yesterday’s muffins
into tiered wedding cakes
The two-trunked cork oak fans wide
risks failure                    holds                                                                                           

The boy’s white hair turns brown turns
white in the sun
smells of summer          of wheat

The girl hopscotches to twelve turns
in the air                         hops home

In your à la mode dreams you may die
then forget about death
forget the stars              and the green
and even the dirt