a work (is) always in progress

Perspective: back way off.
Count the inventory.
Invent a counting method.
Stack various piles
over here, over here. Tiny piles
marked with substance.

A pleasure, often an ache
of some stretch.
And the reach

to discover more patterns.
To fix a stream of mistakes.
By ear, by my eyes, by
discovery sent.

Disorder shifting to
resilient order. Light
mixing with touch. Once
transmogrified, together
transforming each error

into a found blessing. A music.
Alchemical. Of holy surprise.

Circle round, round and around.
Revolving, solving. Always the same.
No matter the matter.
Or the meter.

Imagine it. Reassemble it.
Humming those memories
old puzzle pieces
will fall, softly
into new slots.

Sandy White © 2013