A trajectory of letting go

A trajectory of letting go

Sometimes I listen
to the white page of day

Other times I watch
birds whirl like paper in the wind

then lay my loneliness
in the field and ask

what it remembers
Your silence is a mask

it says, and the real
is just a skein of blue

and evening light is who is on
the other side

And the only questions
to ask—

How can I write about you?
How can I write about the rain?