Closest Thing

Closest Thing

Closest thing to paradise I have known
a soft bed of moss by Penobscot Bay
inspiration to afternoon of ease,
tincture of blue sky through leafy green roof

how long ago was this that is still now?
why do some things remain while others go?
what keeps on renewing what's fresh in us?
what fountain slakes the thirst of secret hope?

the soft of that moss, that young and old mass,
the green of ever that lifted me up
as I pressed down on it and did not crush
what lay underneath and supported me

sensual myth of mossy memory,
moment by Penobscot, more found than lost