plain and white hindsight

it was joy, us.
beauty:  fragile, evanescent
fulfilling our own
function

(i think of williams' red wheelbarrow

and the drop of rain that glazed it,

and made the base shine, and

lovely.)

now you and i.

our touch: cavernous, small.  furtive
function.  only: feed.
and death, alive

(and i think of williams'

bird that, plain and white,
made the red clear, so
starkly.)