by Robert Hilles
For Rain
Some particles
Remain so entangled
That no matter how far
Apart they are
A change to one
Is made to the other
That is love
At the particle level
How does timber
Become lumber
How do trees
Become timber
How does water
Become rain
How does a mountain
Become sand
How does a swamp
Become a desert
How does a desert
Become a swamp
Love is
The dividing line
Between where
The rain barrel
Sits on the deck
And where it doesn’t
Where late night
Squirrels dash
And where they hide
The rain barrel fills
And then empties
And fills again
In Thailand
We sit in a restaurant
Across from the lake
You lean over
Pick up a spoon off the floor
Set it to one side
I want this entangle
Most of all
A flock of seagulls
Skim the surface of the lake
You sip Chai Nom Yin
I have an iced cappuccino
Those birds
I almost say
Thinking of entanglement
You and I
This noisy restaurant
All of this parsed
And then let go
Our sharpened love
Tangles
Manifests
In our urge
To carry water
When the food
Arrives at our table
We are a thousand
Miles away
Riding bicycles
Alongside buildings with
Red-tiled roofs.
The seagulls
Are already here.
— from Juniper Volume 2, Issue 1