Lesson One

Don a robe, cut your hair:  renounce
the world you know:  the first

sunrays of summer, the rib
of monkey bars, the fair

lawn tramped by horses
to win a ribbon blue,

the brass of citadel, mirrored
skins of skyscrapers, the lens

of ocean, the chest of prairieside,
the sweet turtle of moon.

It is all in the way.  The glow
of fireside makes this clear:

the flame wants the branch,
and the branch is consumed.

Life is char.  The wind
whisks it away.

- Janann Dawkins