Cypress
at 11:11, with grandmother walnut,
we were to meet.
i raced partly down the trail
with a shoelace untied,
hurrying anxiously,
but in all my rush
i was one minute late.
my grasp of time was never strong;
hands holding onto that
soft wind,
which blows in flocks
of zeeting pine siskins
and carries them off
just as unexpectedly.
but my confession,
dear fox,
is that i saw you right on time.
sheltered by her protective embrace,
a hundred years of growth at your back,
roots deep in nature's wisdom,
quiet monument of knowing.
at that synchronous minute,
a flicker cried--
my heart and my body stopped,
crowded by fear
and yet longing.
the enigmatic shape of your heart
pulled my frozen feet forward.
***
and so i sat down,
catching breath and eyes.
you placed the face of ancient
lakes and volcanoes in my hands;
leaden levity.
a hummingbird, a chandelier.
a ring and a spoon.
and so we explored the canyon,
drifting through life's unfoldings.
deciphered avian tongues,
unveiled spring seedlings.
the touch of moss and slime mold,
and cold, shaking hands
on holey wood.
and so we rested, supine
under a sap-tapped
north by northwestern red cedar,
where the flux of lucent light
set the stage for
sandhill crane fairy bugs to rave.
esoteric joy.
grief is ever working within,
arranging together old and new:
this strand of pain
and that thread of hope
into a harmony of contrasts;
a cacophonic duet of crows
with the soft ivory under your fingertips.



I love this so so much!
🖤