The Plenty

We two were streams
      conspiring the river.
We were ferns nodding under a tree
      with shade as our kingdom.

And when we were moss
      we elevated the lowlife,
invented 137 words for green
      we couldn't speak.

We were two sticks
      carried from opposite ends
                  by the same bird.
Later as birds
      we lamented our hands.

And when we were rocks
      which of us was denser?

As hooves we were restless
                                 or swift.
As whiskers we fine-tuned
      the history of listening.

We gossiped as bells in the belfry.
      We were elusive as brooms.
As rails we tallied
      the lull
                  between trains.

As flies we dropped together,
      as rain we dropped together,
           as leaves we dropped together
                or nearly, a second apart.

And as ash we were sorry.
      As dust, demented.
           As roots, good neighbors
      who divvied the wealth.

When we were goats nibbling grass
      night was our nanny—
           Nyah, nyah, goaded we
as the goat boy lost track of us.

Happiest (naturally) as shells
      tumbled in the shallows
           securing the calm of a clam ...

Copyright © 2004 Jeanne Marie Beaumont All rights reserved
from Curious Conduct
BOA Editions Limited
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission