Larkspur

                                                      For Jim Olsen

Larkspur is green, then blue,

with the sun at the top.

Aspens stand at ease

to either side.

I start in the rhythmic

silence to sing Brahms's

Frei aber Einsam when

I notice someone has

followed me down,

shadowing and shushing me,

someone or something

right on my heels.

Over my shoulder I see

a darkness lunge

at me but miss, a cloud

of light behind. I almost

catch an edge.

                                  Lower

Larkspur turns out to be

black and mogully. I roll

most of the way down

unaccompanied.