2004/sumac

PICKING SUMAC

Picking sumac
on my walk,
I can’t remember
how the Kumeyaay
used it,
in baskets, I think.
A rabbit hurries
ahead and hides
in the shade,
watching me,
askance –
we so rarely
get to use
that word.
A curious piece
of camouflage.
I wish I could
hide today,
and sort things out,
recent pains
and conversations.

I push the crumpled
wrapping paper
I have carried home
into the re-cycling,
feeling lonely
in the place,
in the task.

4/24/04