i haven’t much,
still,
i’ve an excess.
next to the water,
breeze encouraging it
into small hillocks,
moon swelling it
silently,
i sit,
leaned against
a rock
covered in moss
and lichen.
the rock is
substantive
and soft.
it smells richly
of earth
and mineral.
my body is
shorn of its stores
of excess,
still,
i’ve an excess.
a small mammal
worries the soft multitudes
near me.
an entire universe
of tiny plants.
it keeps a
cautious distance,
not getting near enough
to be touched,
still
it is close.
i’m thin
and chapped
from the wind.
i’m hard
and slight.
i am mineral and earth.
my face is covered
densely in kink
of beard.
i haven’t much,
still,
i’ve an excess.
i have a pocket
of gathered seeds.
i eat one,
eat two,
and flip one over
to my small mammalian friend.
it is near me
but just out of reach.
its fur wears the gleam
of late Summer sun.
it is evening
and soon sleep
will still me.
i haven’t much,
still,
i’ve an excess.
zakschafer.com 