Ashes to Ashes

I came to realize that they were real;

that is to say they had arrived with purpose -
glimmer in the eye with trajectory,
and then settled, and then stayed.

Running brooks shooting off from wild and unmarked river
into private woods,

and down the long and twisted bending line
tapering into offshoots, tributaries, streams, puddles,
-beached-
drop or two of rainlet water

falling from once thirsty leaves.

Crowded around me like ghosts, shadows, bones and rustic jewels

of other pirates once on course.
Cramped like minions, crabs barreling over each other

not sure whether or not to find their way back to sea
but following the massive herd of moving limbs beneath their sideways feat.
Collections - meaningless.

Plastic bag blowing onto sidewalk in the grey sky street.

Once with belongings - ownership, owner and home.

A woman in her own dark forest
touches the plant that is growing
on her windowsill.
How many times in one lifetime have you seen the sun?
How many times today? And what of the moon?
She turns her lamplight, and a shadow to the room.

This is only a prologue to a temperament of sediment.