Today I walked by this miniature labyrinth on my way back from an afternoon in Georgetown. I simply sat for about seven minutes and wrote these lines. I watched several people walk through and stare out at the river and look up and the vines, their eyes scaling down the sides of the columns.
Reflections at Francis Scott Key Park
This is musical:
the romance and reticence between
my paper and I.
I like the quiet because
of the sounds it makes.
I like it because its sweeping haze
brought me here
to an umbra of creeping jenny—
a silent striker, a perennial genius.
We are resilient animals
when hiding beneath twig and brush.
The jenny’s leaves are the smallest
and loudest sound in this space;
they move rapidly against
a metronome of wind.
This is the way music sounds
when I’m not hearing anything
but the earth resting and rising again.