It is irresistible, this impulse to seek
the flaw in the diamond. I must discover
and tell anew that the first day of summer
is but first of long fall to darkling end.
It is the (s)matter of gray caught in corner-
eyed mirror, debate whether to get up
of a sunny morn (for the heat seeds
its own raincloud), sudden insight that I was
this child only summers ago and now
this child (long ago relinquished to earth’s
spinnings and cunning traps) is the sought-
for fruiting. How we give way to the bud
when we thought only to blossom.
We shrivel, all energy spent in the making.