I said yes to the mystery so long ago,
yet I find myself drowning in details,
windy thoughts, idle musings that
kill the whole scene spread before me.

Walking the paved road seeing
black uniform mailboxes and
immaculate flower beds,
one proclaiming Yard of the Month,
I feel squelched and smaller.

No wildness to be seen,
just neat patches regulated by
ordinances carefully followed.
And inside my own mind
there is a calcification as well.

The heart will have none of it,
it goes trailing fresh blood and
hot tears of remembrance,
leaving the territory
revived as if Eden had never
been lost.

Vicki Woodyard