The Depth of Things

A frog rides a runaway boar, beset by insects and a bat bearing down upon them with thorny whip

The Depth of Things

seeing clearly now, the depth of things

how the branches of leafless trees spread out

in all directions

looking for the sun

in long February, cold air

the foreground passing by

the background gently sways

the street bending with each step

the knee bending and the world shifts

with the cadence of a steady pace

in the lens of the eye

its all upside down in the end

dogs pull back in the night, point at the dark