A little thump my foot landeath there upon crackling foliage November bare
Done the days of reckless care simpler treasures near, quiet listening ear.
Cleaner air and a softer stare by the creek bed and the hill
Mountain dare do I go, I go up there.
Ask not for days in spring and tall tales,
winds five months more solemn and fair
Never have I wondered so far into the snow blankets,
I’m an ice sheet drifting,
sleeping like a slumbered bear, smoky breath, crystal lungs.
Moon shadows cross open night beds, watercolor stars of sky white and black
makes me wonder how, dare not know how to go where I have not gone so
far beyond the long dark dawn, after all else has dropped,
out of sight out of mind,
truer than I know to be, by the bee, by the bird, by the tree.
Alone and so captivating, long are the weeks. I am here forest deep with light.
Clear day shinning by night,
see the sea out off the ridge waves silently crash below.
The world of white pine and green,
under rustling brown leaf sing the insect tune
billions and billions like the black abyss, there always.
Little things little people little beings in a big painted picture moving round,
keep it turning, churning on my way to the top and back down.