It is that time
Whenever I see the lavender
You, doubtless have similar irregular tensions
An image, an aroma
Even old fashioned
Imagination herself out there a wandering
Would the slide rule
Help with sensations
Is any form of calculation going to bring order
These are not ghosts
Rather silk sheeted exposures
That lead us toward our past pretensions
Together they take
& hold the breath
From futures both past & present
We are not reluctant
Indeed in times ahead
We may again survive to seek out the lavender