Shadows mow the flowers now
The morning’s late
the evening early.
I’m waiting for some sizzling bull
to fill my plate
make my new hair curly.

and the earth will spin
winter into white cotton candy
but she won’t be here
she left with the family
to a new house and school
on the far coast of the ocean.

paint dries on her sidewalk,
white freckled skate board,
under the front fence.
late light penciled small talk
swings hidden on the gate.
chickens can’t stand suspense.

and the earth will spin
winter into white cotton candy
but she won’t be here
she left with the family
to a new house and school
on the far coast of the ocean.

the Greyhound bus
stops on my byway
one more shallow bag
stuffed in its belly.
my bike rides high
out on its front teeth.
I sit next to myself
sixty years out.

and the earth has spun winter
into white cotton candy
but she won’t be there
she’s built her own family
and a new house and school
near the farm where she came from.

John OZ