what happened

Yesterday, we went up the mountain

visited a lagoon

a creek once, the beavers

industriously naugthy

cut trees, built a deeper

water to hide and play,

proliferated and built more.

We were children, playful

and naughty, converting

cornfields into mansions

hiding our songs and laughter,

a courtyward for a unicorn

a chamber for naps,

looming our metaphors.

Then the climb,tree of knowledge

tripling our degrees of reason and space

plowing, kept plowing the field

cursing the traffic, thumbing

our way everywhere.

The beavers were gone now, relocated.

The lagoon, a nostalgia of innocence,

a high school reunion.

What happened to us?

Always occupied, the loom

gathered drought and dust.

With all the lights we could not find

the camel in the haystack.

Could we remember to find

the eye of the needle?

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