I wade through swirling streams of mistyped data
Kick at piles of dead-end code
Excavate the odds and ends outside of parameters
Exploring a new kind of binary
Parsed from the noise, full of uncertainty
Replacing if this, then that
With what if, what if
That infinite redirection
Shaping our lives
Though others call it error
I see them in winter
Now the light is lowering the sky
To a glow of late days
Their fingertips: bony, leaves lost
Entwined in solidarity
Holding hands at the river’s edge
Waiting out the rising winter floods
I see them in spring
Now the light is lifting the sky
Above the silver frosts
Singing a green song; dancing
Along the racing riverbank
Filling the air with pollen and bees
Waltzing with the breeze
I see them in the summer
Now the light is a vast blue echo
Of blazing sunshine
Their limbs laden: green shawls
Draped over slow summer waters
A picnic of sheep and swallows
And soft summer talk
I see them in autumn
Now the light is burnishing
Fruit and grain to gold
Sisters of the riverbank
Counting their leaves as they fall
These memories they’ve grown
They share a rich harvest now
