poems as hand- and foot-holds on a glass mountain

Numericals

 

How many of us does it take to change a light bulb?

How many of us are there?

 

Shaking a high branch of an apple tree with a rake;

some fall that otherwise would not yet.  None strike.

 

Summer leaves have no number

waiting for an autumn rake.

 

The rain have no number

falling together into our hearing.  

 

The tops of tall trees swing in a high wind

lazily, not choreographed but together.

 

Numericals are smartphone evasions of presence.

How many of us does it take to be here?

How many of us are there?

2 Responses to “Numericals”

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