Boxes

We moved our boxes closer
to infinity, another step
downstream from pacifying puddles
where we felt like trespassers
in paradise.

Figures once alive stand
motionless along this river, trying
to communicate as the wind
lightly breathes life into this idyllic
natural scene.

Trees become boxes, mulch
or other ephemera produced for human
transience. I may finally reside a few
steps further still, content with
our boxes.