Time folds, a
fallen tapestry
whose layers hold
happy scenes from childhood,
camps pitched on pine green,
the endless blue of cornflowers.
Wheat fields overgrown
become newly mown,
feed kings and shepherds
whose kinship shouts
in the twinkle of an eye
or the unruliness of
an untamed brow.
Courting couples
whose clasped hands
form an unbroken chain
stretching ever into eternity
and all the possibilities held
in an empty universe
and an unformed star.

Image: Marc Chagall, Bride and Groom of the Eiffel Tower, 1938-39