It’s just you and me now, meadow,
forever. No big trees, you promised.
I would write in your yearbook
what we wrote to one other when
we were twelve: Stay cool, don’t
ever change! Oh meadow, I love
how the far edge of you is as much
you as the new white clover
in your center, the great leveling
of all that grows within a claimed
proximity. Even the sky above you
belongs here, to you, outer space
helped make this one purple aster.
The meadow is the universe’s
heart, undying, accepting of
all that flows around it, I see
this. There is light, there is water,
flowers and grass, there is me
walking here, welcome, as would
be any life, stopping through.