Wood
We enter a wood.
What is the dark—waves?
Warning? The time light
tilts its leaves?
The dark wishes for all
brightness to be equal, absently.
Bondable to rays of dark,
sodden and lost, dreamers
shear the shadows of hopes.
Invite instead the arcane dawn. Hello.
Invent past light. The woods
wink and it’s day. We
wink, ancestors blushed. Offer
them a denser nest. They ate scorn. Offer
tenderness, whistle
wages of sorrow. Woodwind.
