Felix by Sofia Greenberg - Humble Pie

Sofia Greenberg
These are things she never gets past:
the sightlessness of flesh
the frog eyes of old women
and now
she feels the air’s hands comb her
after kelp. and fog cascading down leeward slopes.
and the needles of the Monterey pine.
let come the day – and how easy!
crowds of sound on the street
carry the hours by,
hours one by one like saints and she with her eyes
kisses their slats of light.
she came to this day alone, with many gifts
but she knows
she will leave with little more
than a measly moonrise
and the onset of a fit of crickets.
Look how time finds its way –
like an ant to the honey jar.
IN PASSING