the World is Gold

Whoever invented the word "nebulous" should be congratulated. Pat on the back, handed a cigar, a class of wine, a big comfy red velvet couch with armrests and a black ottoman.

"Well done, Chap," says the certificate. "You've done it."

----

At some point today, I looked up 

from my computer screen, out the window, 

and into the trees that blend into one another 

like a chain of 8th grade girls walking:

crooked at the elbow.

"You're like my days," I said aloud, 

and watched as a strange woman walked across 

the back porch. 

She glanced in my oversized windows, smiled 

with a butterfly-wave, and vanished into the 

[nebulous] 

foliage.

----

Now, I realize nebulo-sity should be attributed to concepts: thoughts, theories of life ... clouds. 

A cloud is a concept.

----

I don't know who she was. But she crossed 

through my backyard as if the world and its fences did not apply 

to her. As if the wood rail that encases my Cave 

were a suggestion to "Notice!" 

"Look, here: another dwelling-place for a Mind."

And I, the occupant of the Castle, blinked as she

crossed her world with mine,

and vanished,

outline blending like the night into

dawn,

When you cannot tell where one dies

and the next

breathes life.