Into the Mystery by Tony Hoagland

Into the Mystery
by Tony Hoagland

Of course there is a time of afternoon, out there in the yard,
a time that has never been described.

There is the way the air feels
among the flagstones and tropical plants
with their dark, leathery-green leaves.

There is a gap you never noticed,
dug out between the gravel and the rock, where something lives.

There is a bird that can only be heard by someone
who has come to be alone.

Now you are getting used to things that will not be happening again.

Never to be pushed down onto the bed again, laughing,
and have your clothes unbuttoned.

Never to stand up in the rear of the pickup truck
and scream while blasting out of town.

This life that rushes over everything,
Like water or like wind, and wears it all down until it shines.

Now you sit on the brick wall in the cloudy afternoon, and swing your legs,
happy because there has never been a word for this

as you continue moving through these days and years
where more and more the message is not to measure anything.

On This Day (11/01):

• 2025-11-01: Into the Mystery by Tony Hoagland
• 2024-11-01: Scrapbook for November and December 2024
• 2024-11-01: Parking Lot by Reginald Dwayne Betts
• 2022-11-01: Now without me by Richard Blanco
• 2021-11-01: Four Immeasurables in Bewilderment
• 2020-11-01: On ""this ever new self""
• 2016-11-01: Model Hyperlinked Argument for Writing Class - why I hate the new screen-time rules for kids
• 2016-11-01: What are people in your department saying about your leadership?