I swam through the forest
With sunshine in my hands
My thoughts nailed to trees
Like satin veils
Obscuring the world in lavender pale.
The waves brought me further
Into a field of wrecked sails
Where ropes were withered
By sea and salt.
Eventually I arrived to a shore
Where only the bodiless could port
And I threw my skinny tethers
And I was reborn.
There are still Wayside Flowers
And soft forests and tall windy grass.
They will not grieve your departure.
The silence of unpeopled places will not
Create mute deserts, but an oasis
Of life-loved wilderness capable of dressing
For any climate.
Let us not turn light-blind faces to the sun,
Leaving our darkness to outshine the blueness of the sky.
We will never fully decode the mastery of the trees,
Or the language of the sea.
Step down from your self-proclaimed throne, dear human,
For you are not its rightful owner.
Behind the scenes of earth’s silence
There are words,
Like spring leaves they bob
Nonchalantly on the surface
Of forest ponds.
But don’t look for them there,
The secrets are left behind on naked trees
Silhouetted in black against
The dusky sky.
There is a dark searching wind
Softly rocking the white satiny trees.
It is as though the earth rises
Slowly and steadfastly towards heaven.
Valleys and mounds are being
By urgently falling snow.
And you, on your father’s old skis,
Stagger to keep your balance,
As the world as you know it
Disappears in a dizzying
Star crossed silence.