What little I know dwindles each day.
Perhaps this is why I embrace doubt
And wish to revisit every magnolia,
Linden, and wild rose I’ve ever known,
Every slow stream teadark with tannins
Where current and stones laugh in the shallows.
I know less of Iowa perhaps
Than I know of anything on this earth.
I have never strolled beside its creeks
Listening to how your laughter learned sound.
Time gets everything backwards, doesn’t it?
You are there under earth with a headstone
Unbroken by wind, rain, and tectonics
Into pebbles worn smoother every day.