Not the Same
| There lay against the hill dull shadows of aged afternoon sun looking around some shoulder or under a table holding autumn supper. |
| Were you caught as you tried to pass from one road side din of tree and shrub to another place warmer, darker, safer? |
| Were you spread under dry leaf litter decayed to hold no form, save the dull browns of pigment cloth hastily thrown over falling shoulders? |
| I thought I knew you when I looked through August dried grass, having to hide. I sensed the familiar in seeing a thing I knew as a child, knowing it not the same thing. |
-Scott L. Strait