Evening in the Pines |

Evening in the Pines

The dog barking across the lake,
the guitar that thinks it’s human,
the cricket practicing to be a cricket,
the thrush puffed up with attitude-–

all to impress a listener
but there is no listener.

August and a spindled leaf,
a blue moth sailing backwards,
the pigtail girls on the island
pouring make-believe tea
into cups too delicate to see–

all to make a watcher cry
but there is no watcher.

Human mind, created by birdsong,
night sky and a dollop of rain,
why do you cling so fiercely
to the aftertaste of burnt sugar?

Turn and face yourself
if there is a self.

‘Evening In The Pines’ first published in The Times Literary Supplement (UK)

Excerpted from A Country of Strangers, Alfred Knopf, 2022