.
plums on limb tips, outside
across a grassy slice of space,
have just begun to taste the sunny juice
that tips the scale of day —the star
that sprays its golden light across turning
clustered leaves above our arbor vitae emeralds,
the brushy, backboned sentinels, twenty feet tall
we planted there when they were three
though sun is off to right
out of frame and out of sight
I visualize the mountain’s hump
of brown and ruddy trees it rides above
I visualize the blaze of reds I often see
when time is ripe enough
I visualize the particles and waves
by which light in space behaves
space that’s wide enough
and deep and true enough
space that’s sweet and bright enough,
high and blue enough,
infused with life enough
to make all fruit possible
and now an aspen flicks an arbor vitae
its hello by touch of jittering leaves
in vacuum’s tugging breeze
Jim Culleny
10/12/19
Blink 