My World

Sometimes I see it a straight line

Drawn with a pencil and a ruler 

Transecting the circle of the world,

Or as a finger piercing 

A smoke-ring, casual, inquisitive.

But then the sun will come out, 

Or the phone will ring 

And I will cease to wonder,

If it is one thing a large ball or air and memory 

Or many things 

A string of small farming towns

A dark road winding through them. 

Let us say it is a field

I have been hoeing every day 

Then going to sleep in one of its furrows

Or now that is more than half over 

A partially open door 

Rain dripping from eaves.

Like yours, it could be anything 

A nest with one egg 

A hallway that leads to a thousand rooms 

Whatever happens to float in a view 

When I close my eyes 

Or look out a window 

For more than a few minutes 

So that some days I think 

It must be nothing without you