On Turning Pages
It’s a search for mislaid memories;
minutiae lost & found hiding amongst
porous pages born of earthly tree rings.
Charred insignia hunkered down
in tight groupIngs of odd rank & file.
The eye a step ahead of every letter;
oblivious to the crawl of slow hands
turning cartwheels – locked in time.
©️Orion Foote, 2022
Visions of Orion Poetry 