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
eyes tired but never quite failing.
lips worn soft from long-familiar prayers
“I’ve never seen one quite like you before.”