For that odd door of Alice’s
behind which rabbits run on unmowed grass
in unpredictably slipping time,
I keep searching.
Unexpected keys in words, names, smells
bring it nearer, clearer, but then after all -
nothing, just a shifting shadow,
an unexpected stirring.
Choice, direction, opportunity open
but which unlocked gate to choose
when none are that elusive shrinking door
I’m searching for.
Suppress panic imagining trees growing taller,
time speeding mercilessly
as I get bigger and older,
and realize perhaps I gave up long ago.
No way I could make it through