Arcadia

Why not begin with the man and the snow
confetting the lawn, and how light glows;

why not begin with footfalls or the bumble
bee with wing too thin for its hairy body

not heavy, but slick with honeysuckle splutter;
why not begin with the sun that swells,

unswells, in a rainbow’s wet transparency;
or the fog we see as thinner,

more transparent – unraveling till
it appears dappled in blue in good light;

why not begin with the boughs that droop
fraught with fruit; or the seven magnolias

in the yard, breathing out. Why not end
with what coats the shallow body

beside the magnolias; or the beaver - that
slammer - slapping furry tail on water.