As I sit and watch the interplay of light and shadow
On the grass, on the trunks and on the leaves of the Florida oaks
that sway almost contemplatively in the wind , and wonder
if only I could but see the figures rise from history
who have crossed my land for whatever reason, in any season, in any year.

I would of course acknowledge T-Rex clumbering by,
but mainly it is that upright creature that makes me wonder why;
as suddenly some ape-man figure stops and stoops and turns
and sees me lazing by the pool, devoid of motion
but moves on in haste as if escaping erosion

An age later as I listen to jazz on my digital radio
a pair of natives with bows and arrows, miss a squirrel by a nose,
then turn and take aim at me; but suddenly stop and sneak away;
dissolving in the mist that mingles up from the age-old creek.

Then rubbing my eyes to see two gray-dressed figures, in military garb
stealthily parting the bushes by, with bayoneted rifles for kinsmen to slay.
Next, the sounds of backfire;
as a man, all moustache, steps down calmly from his model-T
in the dusty lane at the front of the mansion, just across from me
only to disappear in a puff of steam.

I wanted so very much for them all to stay and talk about
what they knew; what they think; what brought them and why;
what it would be like to live then; while experiencing now.

And I sensed that in the night all these figures and many more
come out to replay scenes from their past lives score;
and I cannot wait to enter the play and to say my line.
Meantime I will wonder who, at the drama’s end, will take a bow as they self-align.
And perhaps I can encourage them to stay; as I raise my “Trespassers Welcome” sign.

03/13/2009

Author's Note: The idea for this poem came several years ago while sitting on the front step of my in-laws Florida home; while looking out at its rural beauty bounded by a sometimes busy road.

Posted on 03/13/2009
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