As it turned out
the backyard was a forest.
Within its shuttered space
the trees towered tall,
neck-craningly, taller than tall.
They arched with saddened grace,
sacred and measured as cathedral ribs,
dark red against opaque blue night.
Then, through their vaulted canopy,
a fragment of a flake white moon.
We stood in brokenness
for me to understand
they grew from your earth,
I seem to think
you took my hand.
The other numeracy
2 hours ago