By Brittany Watts-Hendrix

An almost-black, brown womyn carries a walking stick,
to counterbalance the bag thrown over her shoulder.
Her head and neck sit slightly forward, to compensate
for weight remaining, directing attention to an almost-brown,
white boy sitting. His hands in his lap and feet under his bum.

They hold one another with their eyes,

while sheep live their lives indifferently:
occupying the green expanse. Some resting, eating grass,
one standing – near, but never touching moments of rock
that hover above the height of grass.

The wide-trunked oaks are the same color as the rocks:
an off-white, grey. Branches reach out, some naked,
most full of almost-yellow, green leaves that directs
attention to the womyn – who might’ve come from where
trees seemingly grow from stonewall – on her way into
the shadows that welcome her,

but is suspended in time with the boy, for now.