Sixteenth Year

Sixteen year old-growth
Tree tries to flower each spring:
Roots still too shallow.

Protection and Prison

A wall's a strange thing.

Can keep one in, or many out; contain or enjoin.

Blocking sound or blocking sight: one, the other, both, or neither.

Walls can hurt and walls can heal.

Walls allow growth, or may restrict it:

life tunnels under, or climbs up and over to pass them.

A wall, broad or narrow, short or tall,

can be paper thin or miles long.

They send the message clear: keep out of here!

Or enclose a space to get along.

Handhold

A hand
              Held out:
A hand
Held it

Unmist Remains

Mist a train:
Roll in the rain
Up the mountain,
Gust strained,
Water stained
Shield broken aim,
Carry me remains.

Sickly

A dying, sickly daylight
Slithers through a slit
In the split westward sky.

All

All
I give you,
I would give you
An infinity of times,
Gratis.

Wide Open Night

Oh, how my wide open heart aches
To see the color of a dusklight sky
Fading into the space of nighttime,

While ember snowbrushed mountains
Descend from jagged knifelike sharpness
Into a hazy blur of dark invisibility.

Drowning Sorrow

Taking strong emotions
When they emerge
And pushing them
Back underneath
Until their struggles end

And I forget they drift
Under-away
My gaze transfixed
By shimmering
On the far horizon

I and Crow

Crow and I,
Both dark-clad,
Both hungry,
Both startled
By the cry
Of a gull
Passing by,
Overhead.

the fur of the earth

The fur of the earth,
Gold in open-land sun,
Rises in amber tufts,
Climbs the rolling hillsides
In steady-cresting waves,
Reaching just high enough;
And as far as eye can vise.