Generous night lays ahead, the eyes of the forest. Green patterns of pond moment realize the edge of sun. Sun bears the light until eyes. These simple moments cross words and paths. Hesitation becomes a glance. There will be deer or two stepping away.
Inside the spring voice, the notion of tree and pond combine for hours called space. The green spends in between. Nothing will last until forever, over and in the pond. Versions of frogs and moments combine. The sun spends astonishment.
Fox steps away, coyote cools. A field represents a field. No one stands beneath the central tree, all is in.
Moments after non-moments and before, a simple tree and simple pond produce an area of arrival. This is time’s person. Person is time’s place.