Shades of green and gray
deep in that kudzu-covered mind of mine
I can feel the ancient ones,
wending through lobes layered thick with vine and time.

I can sense them, poring over each tender blade of grass,

each glimmer of june beetle

each hope I hold loosely in my grasp

close.

eyes tired but never quite failing.

lips worn soft from long-familiar prayers

whisper wow

“I’ve never seen one quite like you before.”