Classic Poem

Near the sea
the ground's partitioned off.
The winter sun shines, and it's quiet.
The air contains a faint bit of blue vitriol,
and iron, electricity, and carbide are there.
From sometime in the past they've been there.
Look at the reeds rusted red.
Like ferns turning to carbon,
grasses gradually complete spiritual assimilation
with this desolate field.
Then too, certain kinds of birds, dragonflies, and hairstreaks that are already transparent.
Their tiny souls.
Human beings follow far, far behind.