New York Lindsey
My mother would drive this way
so she could show me
the llamas tucked
under the trees and behind the fence.
It was what I liked about his road.
They stood on their slanted triangle of a paddock,
eating their grass,
never taking issue with our passing.
This is how I knew what llamas were.
My mother saw to it
that I was aware: wash houses
behind former homes
of miners; a stellar jay in the plum tree.
It was the small details of the unspoken,
around me that gives life luster.
I don't know when the llamas
were evicted moved or died.
I don't think the condos
there think of serenity
this road, or the llamas.
(Poetry inspired photography based on Dan's chapbook, Following The Day).