backyard oaks at angles
difficult to understand.
A breeze creates strange shadows
on our lawn as blades blow
every direction at once.
I thought of geometry.
I think I got a "B" in that class
30 years ago, but
my memory is often a liar.
A fly circles my ankle.
I remember my teacher, Mr. Farmer,
and something about Pythagoras.
My white cat watches me
with lidded eyes from a shady spot
near the Buddha statue.
Pythagoras, Mr. Farmer, and I
create a kind of historic triangle
here on my lawn.
That grade must've been a "C".
