in and up

A little further
we go
in and up
deeper and higher
the rushing and the whisping and the noises that used to terrify
when we were children

shadows are growing things,
unfolding on a crocheted spring morning
after heathcliff went away,
when all the days were open linen stretched
musical and brazen
in their possibility

a little sadder we get,
understanding the roots and the soil
pulling our muscles taut
while hyacinth and lilies, summer bliss, are torn up by the much-prayed for rain

the nuts and the charcoal burrow
and we are brighter
further out and further on
woven with plastic shreds of another people's genius
the realities that used to puzzle us
when we were children