You who are so wide,
you can be held in a narrow heart,
you are a small white pebble
in my pool.
I know where my soul is.
On the left and just above my heart.
I saw it when I slipped inside
and fell into the light.
Soul is hole,
that generates the rest of me.
I reached in and held,
it filled my hand.
At that fluorescent moment after sunset
when plain things glow rose-golden suddenly
and silence grips the bay mid-wave,
I’m walking the kids down Pale Moon Drive.
How many of these air-conditioned people know
that plain things glow
before accepting night?