After a day of repeated missteps
each stitching me smaller,
knobbly and bunched into a shape
that did not remember its original purpose,
folded and tucked into uselessness —

I stepped out into evening air
grown intimate and buoyant,
the small currents cool while
the deeper humor remembered still 
the heat of the day
 

which I missed 
for sitting in my corner faced into that infinity
gated by keyboard and screen,
doing the dance of question and response 
an eco-cycle of bells and whistles 
that creates no oxygen and
who's thrusting needle of intent 
stitched me into such a wad
that I tumbled hopeless 
out into day's end

and the light that I missed
and the heat that I missed
and the little flick of leaves
showing both sides at once
and the contradictions co-existing
IF this AND ALSO NOT this
the memory of heat and of cool
brought each to me together
and both together played about 
the unraveling of me.

Now I give myself over
to the fading of the light
and the wind in the trees
and the infinite layers of hush.

I remember myself and become again
an instrument of listening