I Am Backyard

A fish jumped and
I remembered
what it was like
jumping off
the low-dive and
landing on my belly.

Over yonder a tree
on its side
that the beaver hauled down.

A bird.
Until it drops,
until it alights silently
in the extended arms
of the willow.

A thousand lightning bugs
once invisible sting the
twilight like branding irons.

Soon it will be dark,
though the moon
(I’m sure)
grows brighter.

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