The Memory Pool

Scramble, scramble, infinite sky

Fear perfect days in Autumn

when screaming jets and

pancaking concrete and steel

crash through your sphere of

Empedacles

On sky blue days,

fragments of souls flutter

down through the ether

like paper leaflets to

Callery pear and white oak

Blue light pulls them to

caverns deep in the Earth

where the burns, the dust,

the thirst, are quenched

in cascading waters

and we are cleansed

and rejoined in the Memory Pool