Ancestors
of part of an agrarian past
holding baskets of now
heirloom produce–
the tomato
and smiling forever
Or in tall, dignified finery
in an ancient hall, kind of slow
and lacking in color
Or in an exhale
let into relaxed
and painless air
sans worry
And there’s us
too often with our calculators
days locked inside brains
Or better sometimes, looking
and listening
All of it, living and past–
Connected
to everything on the backdrop
of the cosmos – deeper and deeper
starry mirror
Us
clumping together
bits of moving dust
in sentient host
~ Lady