Newmarket VI

I used to be everything.

That’s how people found me—

a forest trail meeting flowing water.

Or thereabouts.

I was a part of everything.

Enjoying.

What did they used to call me?

I’m not sure there is anyone left

in the world

who knows my secret name.

Maybe nobody.

Maybe not even me.

People people people.

Where is my green belt?

It is hard to find anything around here

with so many people.

I think it is sunny.

If only I could see through this fog.

It smells funny.

I seem to recall the wind telling me

about a fog a long time ago,

when it came in traveling from the sun rising.

Wind never said anything about the smell,

about the way you have to breathe more

because one inhale just isn’t as filling as it once was.

I have the sense I used to travel more.

Maybe that’s not true.

My daughter goes all over in her SUV.

But things now seem confined.

Limits keep expanding into fields,

hoses and houses and houses,

but I’m more locked down than ever.