Sunday, February 26, 2017



Bright copper sparks from the sidewalk   
in strong spring light. Peer down. Curved

copper back of a speck-sized bug, dome
of some microscopic faith—flaring, flaring.  

Dogs’ feet, people’s feet, stroller wheels pass
heedlessly above. On it basks, a dot alive.  

This poem is dedicated to my friend Malcolm Pearcey,
who entered my mind while I wrote these lines and who
visits again every time I think of them