My friend’s backyard is a refuge for gypsies
feathered birds and fireflies, migrating spirits
on this plane and the next.

A bullfrog found a way through a fence
into his new pond, buzzing life to the grass
and trees beyond.

He’s a man who carries his hometown
tattooed under his skin, the stories
of people he loved in their own voices,

those who made and rejected him
in a single breath; set him to wandering,
led him to marry the world instead.

– Joseph Hardy

Author’s Note: I am drawn to write about the meaningful confusions of life.