Back to the garden

In between breaths –
that’s how fast it happens –
a quiet announcement, an omen
a sniffle leading to an avalanche
like some damn butterfly
lost halfway across the world

graffiti making light of death
of battling demons manufactured
by boredom and plastics

a 40-year-old song resurrected
just as contentment was settling in
with no regrets and less of the blues

In between a thought and a hard place
where we are drawn like the 99
waiting for the one, waiting for a reveal
or maybe a return to wonder we knew
briefly before concrete covered the garden
and like the idiots we are, happy for grace