31, Epilogue

The year I lost the horizon--
could not see
the sky's relation to the earth.


Year I moved downstairs,
gained a yard and roses
which somehow reminded me
to miss my grandpa.


Year they tore out the fencerow--
end of many
youthful pilgrimages--
and my mother moved away.


Withdrawing year--
a sort of death
without funeral,
without body to face the east.