Sand

 In the coherent white glare of tomorrow

it becomes hard to remember what you said under the 

            Canopy of foam.

 

 Saying goodbye, a filigree of moans

blankets this earth, as each human grief, never complete 

            Slides from day:

 

 Day that always promises the blossom of re-becoming

purple, translucent and calm, some hidden passerine 

            Going nowhere

 

 while suddenly, deep in the leaves, he clears his warbling

wherewithal to send his polished song aloft 

            To be revealed 

 

 in a chromatic someday that surely must be perfect:

A place where one again can dream the imperfect 

            Life lived 

 

 together, unpossessed inside one grain of chance

that can't ever catch the logical bus to school

            Entering the unknowing.