We laugh at them for their glitter-search flurry. They are known for that. They laugh at us behind wooden fences. We are known for that. They ask: Why are you counting us? Four dreams are wisdom, five are greed, one is virtue. Don’t you know those who want yet another language, so and so many children, countries, loves, summer and regular houses, second chances sang to their irises, and yes, corneas, retinas? Now, in so many years… One east. One west. Do not catch them. Do not count them. Stand beneath the widening sky while five shadows cross your face at once. It can be quickly divined I am no friend of the counting glass.
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I loved the refusal to count or capture them. “Stand beneath the widening sky while five shadows cross your face at once” feels like an invitation to let wonder remain larger than interpretation. Some things lose their life the moment we try too hard to make them mean something.