I wonder if I’ll miss the moss
After flying off so much as I miss it now
just think about leaving.
There were stones in many colors.
There were sticks that both held
Lichen and moss.
There were red gates with old ones
There were fields of dry grass
smells like the first rain
then new mud. There was mud
and there was going
all the beautiful walks
and it alone filled me –
the smells, the scratching grass heads.
All sleep under the bushes
once awakening to vultures above, peering down
with their heads bowed as they do
Cartoons of interest and curiosity.
Also once, a lizard.
Once, there was also a Kangaroo Rat.
There was once a rat.
They didn’t say that I belong to them
but I did.
Whenever the experiment is on and off
my life is coming to an end
I will return to the place that held me
and be held. It’s okay I think
I did what I could. I think
I sang some, I think I put my hand out.
—Jane Mead (1958-2019)
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