You wish you could see inside a corner
mailbox to confirm empty

or full. Exposed
tree roots haunt you. A stretch

of new sidewalk slabs guides you
forward. A picnic table in the sand

at Hidden Beach tells no tales.
Ducks swimming in the lake

go the distance. Almost midnight
rocks scattered across a tree lawn

form a secret riprap
in your mind. Wild

asparagus grows out of control
in a ditch. Pink chalk marks

the edge of the moment.
A bird bath is not

a bird bath at all. Another
optical illusion wins.

Pain becomes you.
You become euphoria.

Bumble bees sonicate
a side garden with abandon.

Loyal saints appear
when you least expect them.

A freshly chalked empty
soccer field reminds you of being

a fierce girl. You climb
the park hillside without slipping

or murmuring “why.”

If only we all wanted
to protect Bassett Creek.