Two Poems

LOOKING BACK

The past is small and still,
The air will be clear today.
I part the bushes and look
Through the wrong-way lense again.
Things present, the wood, the hill,
Get smaller, further away.

I can watch the to and fro
Of silent exhausted cars
But not the drivers' faces.
They belong to themselves.
The others barely show
As hints of smoke or scars.

The view has precise charms;
Miniature old men
So attractive to the eye,
...